Reflections of You
by Drake Roberts
Summary: BtVSHP: Willow's little rampage, and Xander's actions do not go unnoticed at Hogwarts. Sound vaguely familiar? Don't worry, that's just the beginning.
1. Chapter 1: Through Another's Eyes

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts (aka: Shelley of Kelley and Shelley)

Rating: PG-13 There will be violence, but I don't see any elaborate sex scenes or sailor-like swearing in this story's future. If you watch the TV show and read the books, I really don't think you'll have a problem stomaching my story.

Disclaimer: Since I have, as of yet, not published any original works, there is no possible way I could own any of the characters, settings, etc. of either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Harry Potter book series. But that could all change if J.K. Rowling or Joss Whedon wanted to sell them to me. I have a shiny nickel!

Author's Note: Yes, I am aware that this crossover has been done to death. The truth of the matter is, I fought writing this for a long time, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. So, for the sake of my sanity and the hope that getting it out of my head and onto paper would clear some more of my brain to work on my other WIP fics, I jotted the plot bunny down. Of course, once I started it, I really enjoyed it, so I'm going to post in the vain hope that someone isn't totally burned out on BTVS/HP crossovers and will read it and give me some feedback. Be warned: This story starts out at the end of Season 6, and the 4th Harry Potter book (surprise, surprise). But, I pledge a solemn oath on my oversized Xander T-shirt that it will not be a carbon copy of the Willow gets all better at Hogwarts storyline. I'm much too twisted to be that predictable. Anyway, I'm posting the first part as a trial. If you like it, tell me. If you want more, TELL ME. If you've deathly afraid of lawn gnomes . . . Well, actually, I'd be intrigued, but it's not really necessary information. 

Ahem! ON WITH THE STORY!

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Two figures stood less than twenty feet from each other, yet even the casual observer could see more separated them than a small length of sunny field. Polar opposites they were, one petite, but still frighteningly intimidating, the other taller, broader, and more muscled, but somehow appearing much more vulnerable. One seethed with rage and grief so strong it seemed to suck the light in from around her, darkening what would normally be a bright spring day. The other represented a quandary, outwardly calm, but inwardly a maelstrom of anxiety and fear, not for himself, but for the figure standing less than fifteen steps away. By all appearances, the first, hellbent on destruction, should easily crush the second who had nothing at his disposal to fight this dangerous creature.

Appearances can be deceiving.

"Get out of my way, Xander. I mean it."

Two friends squared off against one another. One wanted to end the world's, and her own suffering, in a flaming pyre. The other one's thoughts revolved solely on saving the friend he loved more than his own life.

That, or making sure he died with her.

"World's gonna end, where else am I gonna be?" he asks, almost as much to himself as to her.

Eyes darkened to match the witch's hair at that remark. "You can't stop me."

A face so rarely devoid of humor met her stare solemnly and with an intensity she didn't think her friend capable of before. "It doesn't matter. I'll still love you."

Rage boiled to the surface, as if the simple sincerity of his words had struck something deep inside, something ugly. She batted her friend aside like so much rubbish and gathered her energies to siphon into the idol in front of her. Laying at the foot of the statue, pain radiating from his ribs and down his back, he could think of only one thing to do. If he'd thought about it rationally, he would have realized his idea was insane. But he wasn't listening to his rational mind at the moment. The young witch saw her friend meet her eyes for a brief instant. Then he stepped into her magic's path.

Half a world away, Harry Potter sat up with a gasp, his hand going to his forehead where his infamous scar was throbbing in time with the rapid pumping of his heart. Something big was happening, he could feel it.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered from where she sat next to his bed in the Hospital Wing. He was due to be released tomorrow, but his friend had insisted she stay and help him catch up on missed schoolwork. To be truthful, he enjoyed the company, if not the tutoring. "Are you quite all right? Harry?"

He couldn't answer her. He was too busy writhing in agony. The pain seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He'd never felt anything like it, not from any injury, or his scar, or any curse he'd ever been put under. Every muscle in his body spasmed simultaneously. A strangled gasp escaped his locked jaw, and he vaguely saw Hermione's eyes widen in fright.

As quickly as the pain started, it ended, leaving no more than a memory, and a very frightened Hermione Granger standing over his hospital bed. Harry blinked a few times to clear his vision.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he reassured his friend before she could even ask. His voice sounded a little weak, but she seemed to accept his statement. "But we need to find Professor Dumbledore right away."

"But, Harry, the curfew, remember?" Hermione stated. Harry gave her a pointed look. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. I forgot. We're rebels. We don't follow such petty rules as strictly enforced, you'll-be-expelled-if-you-get-caught curfews," She shrugged. "I didn't want to graduate anyway. Come on, then. Let's find Dumbledore."

The two didn't have to look for long. They nearly ran into him as they turned the corner after exiting the hospital wing. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were right behind him. By some miracle, Harry and Hermione somehow managed to dodge the three wizards and avoid discovery. They quickly fell into step behind the three.

"It's all gone terribly wrong, Albus," Professor McGonagall exclaimed fretfully.

"Well what did you expect after we imbued our powers to an outsider," Snape retorted scornfully.

"Now, Severus. I trust Rupert Giles implicitly. " Dumbledore stated. "True, he ws not trained in our ways, but he is a skilled wizard in his own right, nonetheless, muggle or no. And, need I remind you, it was one of his protégé's who caused all of this?"

"Something needs to be done," Severus argued. "Even now, the child is up to Merlin knows what. Her power must be contained before she decides to kill us all!"

"For once, I agree with Severus," McGonagall added reluctantly. "With You-Know-Who on the loose once again, we have no idea what plans he could bring to fruitation with someone as powerful and out of control as the girl. We must take action immediately."

"If I am not mistaken," Dumbledore spoke, a faraway gleam in his eye. "Action is already being taken."

McGonagall and Snape both gaped at Professor Dumbledore in complete bewilderment. Hermione blinked. What was the Headmaster talking about? Imbuing power to Muggles? Actions being taken? What the bloody hell? How much trouble could one person get into with magic in the Muggle world?

Harry tensing up beside her was the only warning Hermione got before her cohort and his Invisibility Cloak both fell to the floor at her feet.

Professor McGonagall gasped. "Hermione Granger? Why on earth are you spying about in the hall?"

Professor Snape turned to her with a sneer. "Where is he, Miss Granger? That meddling Potter must be around her somewhere."

A whimper came from the invisible form at her feet. Hermione completely ignored her demanding professors and kneeled at her friend's side.

"Harry? Harry, what is it?" She pulled the cloak away and stared down at his huddled form. Harry had his arms wrapped around himself and his whole body had begun to shiver.

"Headmaster Dumbledore!"

The entire group, minus Harry, turned at the frantic shout. Ginny Weasley ran toward them, her older brother Ron in tow. The two came to a halt in front of the gathered group.

"Something's happening!" Ginny exploded. "Something big! All the pictures in our Common Room are screaming and knocking themselves off the walls!" Suddenly realized who she was actually shouting at, she swallowed nervously and looked at the floor in embarrassment.

"'Mione? What are you doing here?" Ron asked suddenly. "You wouldn't be caught dead out after -" Ron's eyes fell to her feet. "Harry!"

"It - it hurts!" Harry gasped, still hugging himself as if warding off a chill or trying to hold himself together. "Why is he so calm?"

Hermione's brow knitted in confusion. "Why is who so calm, Harry?" she asked from where she still kneeled partially in front of him.

Harry suddenly met Hermione's concerned gaze and she gasped in shock. Where green eyes used to twinkle, pupilless ebony pools glared back at her. "Whether he's here or not, the world's still gonna burn!"

Behind Hermione, Professor Snape had gone pale. He looked over at the youngest Weasley and imagined his face looked much like hers at the moment. Ginny, sensing the Potion Master's gaze, leveled him with one of her own.

"You feel it too, don't you?" she asked.

"Feel what, Miss Weasley?" Snape replied somewhat unnerved.

"Evil," Ginny answered quietly.

Ron couldn't take it anymore. He ran to Harry's side and grasped him by the shoulders. "Bleedin' hell, Harry. Snap out of it!" he commanded, giving his friend a good shake.

Harry blinked heavily and while the black eyes remained, Hermione and Ron were relieved to see their friend behind them instead of that dark force from before.

"Ron," Harry asked shakily.

Ron offered his friend a nervous grin. "Where'd you go just then?"

Harry shivered. "She's in so much pain. She wants to end it. She wants it all to end. And her friend, he. . . .he,"  
"He's doing what he has to," Dumbledore answered quietly. Everyone jumped; they'd forgotten he was even there. "Now, if you please, we must attend to this matter. Professor McGonagall, I'm entrusting the children's supervision to you until I return."

Professor McGonagall nodded in response.

"Ron," The redhead's eyes shot up when the Headmaster used his first name. "You take Harry back to Madame Pomprey and stay there, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Ron replied quickly and Dumbledore turned to Hermione and Ginny. "Miss Granger, you and Miss Weasley grab Harry's cloak and accompany Severus and I."

"What?" Snape exclaimed. "We're bringing students with us?"

* * * * *

Deep in the dungeons on the other side of the school, Draco Malfoy was wishing he would die, or at least lapse into a coma for the next week. He bolted from the room he shared with the other boys from his year, for once grateful that his bed was close to the door that led to the bathroom.

As the day's food made a repeat appearance, Draco cursed the fact that magic had little effect on most illnesses. Or allergies, for that matter. Being allergic to cat hair in a place where practically every other student had one was hell on earth at times. Of course, this whole castle seemed like hell on earth nowadays.

Voldemort had returned. He'd bled Harry Freakin' Potter and made himself whole once more. In the Slytherin house, you'd think the Ministry had declared every day was Christmas. Everyone celebrated when they returned to the Common Room at night. Draco's father no doubt had already begun kissing Lord Voldemort's ass in an attempt to appease him for his cowardice in the face of Dumbledore and the other good wizards. Draco's induction into the Death Eaters was an inevitability, one that he'd started to look at with a horrible sense of foreboding. 

He'd followed his father in love and fear on the dark path. He'd thirsted for the limitless power that Voldemort represented, and he'd eagerly awaited the day that he could watch Harry Potter get what was coming to him.

All his thoughts of power and glory stopped the moment Harry and Cedric had returned with the Portkey trophy. Draco had never seen a dead body before. He'd never witnessed a family grieve for a life unfairly taken. Most wizards died of old age, at least since he could remember. He knew that families had been ripped apart by Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but they had just been stories. This was reality. He'd known Cedric. They'd gone head-to-head in Quidditch. He knew Cedric didn't like him; no one liked him, even in his own house, but he'd still known him. He'd even liked him in a way. Cedric was a good Quidditch player and one of the few people who didn't go out of their way to hate him. He was just there. . . . . Until he wasn't.

He'd stood in the background and watched Cedric's family mourn and wondered if anyone would care half as much if Voldemort end ed his life. Then his eyes had fallen on the famous Harry Potter, lying bleeding beside the body, his eyes wild and haunted. Both of them stared at the boy who only died because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, the boy who'd died while Harry Potter had lived, again.

Draco had torn his eyes away from the scene, refusing to acknowledge feeling any sympathy for the Mudblood do-gooder he was supposed to loathe with his entire being. He knew the Gryffindor would never spare any such sympathy for him. If he ignored the gnawing in his gut, it would go away, just like the tears that clouded his vision.

Unfortunately, the images stayed with him, chipping away at the cold resolve he'd surrounded himself with, trying to get at emotions he'd buried the day he realized that his father was raising him to be a pawn, not an heir. The last week, he'd kept up the threats toward Potter and his merry band and his shrewd mask of contempt for any wizards not loyal to the Dark Lord, but inside his doubt had begun to grow. His contempt had turned to envy. He now yearned for something he realized they had, but that he'd never been given: a choice.

His prayer to the porcelin gods complete, he exited the stall and leaned against the stone wall beside the sinks, letting the stones' chill soothe his feverish skin. The case of the shivers he developed was worth the relief it brought to his aching muscles and throbbing head.

Merlin, he hated being ill. You threw your guts up and ached all over, and even going to sleep rarely brought relief, as it only brought on warped, nightmarish fever dreams. Draco pushed himself off the wall and shuddered at that thought. His dreams tonight were the worst. Even after he'd woken up, he thought he could still feel the darkness trying to close in around him, rip him apart, burn him alive from the inside. Then the first wave of nausea had hit and all thoughts but the need to get to the toilet had scurried away.

"Wow, Malfoy. You really look like shit."

Draco's eyes snapped open in alarm. He hadn't even heard the seventh year enter the bathroom. The guy walked past Draco and started filling a glass at the sink.

"Yeah," Draco replied quietly, mustering up a tiny smirk from some hidden reserve. "Flu's a real bitch."

The seventh year looked at the silver-haired boy askance for a moment before turning for the door, glass in hand. When he got to the doorway, he turned back to Draco with what the younger man could have sworn was close to concern on his face.

"You really should go see Madam Pomprey," he said. "The last thing you need right now is for those cuts to get infected."

His good deed done, the elder Slytherin returned to his room, completely missing the look of utter horror that came to Draco Malfoy's pale face. As the bathroom door swung closed, he raised a shaking hand to his left cheek. His fingers came back bloody.

_"Shut up!" Invisible fingers swiped across his face._

Draco gripped the sink so hard his knuckles creaked and willed his knees not to buckle. After a few deep breaths, he finally looked up. His own frightened silver eyes stared back at him. Three angry red lines slashed across his angular cheekbone, not much more than a scrape, really. Some of the healing balm his mother had given him last Christmas would take care of the minor cuts by morning.

But that wasn't what drew his attention and started his shivers with renewed fervor. His eyes locked on the bloody tatters of his pajama top.

"_I love you, Willow."_

_"Shut up!" Fingernails turned into talons, ripping through cloth and skin to the tissue beneath knocking him to his knees. The fiery trail over his heart did nothing but drive him toward her. Long ago he'd made a promise and he was going to keep it._

Draco absently drew a trembling hand to his bleeding chest. "I promised her she would never be alone," he whispered.

Stumbling back from the sink, Draco desperately tried to stop the whirl of emotions that he knew weren't his own. A sob escaped his lips as he caught his eyes in the mirror once again, tear-filled and more terrified than he'd ever seen.

"Oh, God," he managed, the words barely audible, even to his own ears.

Draco finally lost his battle with gravity and fell until his back came into contact with the stone wall. He slid the rest of the way to the floor. Pulling his knees to his chest, despite the pain that brought from the still slightly bleeding gashes, he huddled in the corner and silently prayed for the dreams, the darkness, and the chills to go away.

* * * * *

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TBC. . . 

That enough of a teaser for you?


	2. Chapter 2: Rescue Me

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: PG-13 I'm not the best judge of these things. If you feel the rating should be upped, just drop me a line. I won't be offended.

Disclaimer: If I owned any of these characters, I wouldn't need my day job. I would spend my days doing something I love just like the true owners of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Harry Potter. Whenever I finally create my own little universe of characters, I'll be sure to let you all know.

A/N: Wow! I'm totally stunned by the amount of feedback. You guys rock! I was so afraid everyone would boo and hiss at my attempted crossover. I'll try to update as often as possible, but I tend to get distracted by other plot bunnies. Hopefully this one and Outside Humanity will feed off each other. Oh, and thanks for the heads up on the separations. They were there before I uploaded it, I swear! Anyway, enjoy the next chapter.

* * * * *

As the sun started its slow descent below the western horizon, Xander Harris felt them appear. He didn't care. His only focus was the now sleeping form of his oldest and best friend cradled in his arms. He gently swept a tress of hair out of her eyes, marveling at its renewed red hue.

The only thing on the young man's mind was holding his Willow until her pain went away. Unfortunately the mysterious new arrivals had different ideas.

"So which one is the transgressor?" the first one asked in a bored tone of voice. Xander guessed much of what the man said was spoken that way.

"We are not here to exact vengeance, Severus," the next voice chided. This man's voice sounded rougher. It fairly grated against his throat as he spoke, but it somehow managed a gentle pitch and a kind tone. "The child needs guidance and understanding, not scorn and damnation."

"Which one, Headmaster?" the first one, Severus, continued, a note of impatience entering his cold, yet cultured voice.

The old man sighed almost silently. "The girl," he answered in a tired voice.

Professor Snape left Headmaster Dumbledore's side and trudged the short distance up the bluff toward the two strangers. That is, until the boy leveled him with a stare that froze him in his tracks.

"Take one step closer to us and you'll regret the day you came to Sunnydale in a never walking again capacity," the boy spoke softly, his cold eyes sending a chill down Snape's spine.

Xander could see the anger creep into the dark robed man's face at his threat, but he made no move to come closer. Good. He was tired of people never taking him seriously.

"She," Snape started, pointing a finger at Willow, "has broken every rule of Witchcraft imaginable. She must come with us, so kindly hand her over."

"I'm not letting you take her anywhere," Xander retorted sharply. On the other side of Dumbledore, Hermione and Ginny exchanged a quick grin. No one at school ever talked to the Potions Master like that. They couldn't wait to tell Neville.

"And if you plan on taking her by force, it's going to take more than the four of you to do it."

Snape stared at the boy in open mouthed shock for a moment before deciding to concentrate on something he had control over. He whirled to face the two girls.

"The Headmaster and I expressly told you. . . ." 

He found himself staring at thin air.

". . . .stay under the cloak," he finished barely above a whisper.

For their part, Ginny and Hermione merely gaped at the young man in wide-eyed disbelief. He met their stares with one of his own. His anger faded slightly as he caught sight of their barely disguised fear. Angry or not, he had no right to frighten kids, well, teenagers actually. The two looked about Dawn's age, maybe a little younger. He took in the group that had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"What's with the capes and wands and robey-thingies, anyway? Is there a Sci-Fi convention in town and no one told me?" A small smile tugged at his lips despite the situation. "Cause Tall, Pale, and Constipated is wearing the worst Dracula costume I've ever seen."

Hermione snorted at the comment. Behind her and Ginny, Dumbledore cleared his throat to cover up a chuckle before he moved to Professor Snape's side.

"Perhaps," he began, laying a hand on Snape's shoulder, "it would be best if the young gentleman and I had a word alone."

"You - you can't possibly expect me to -"

"Please, Severus. Take the girls and return to the school. I shall be fine here."

Snape shook her head. "I can't in good conscience leave you here alone." he argued. He didn't like the rebellious look in the young man's eyes. 

From Snape's tone, Xander gathered that whoever this older man was, he had the pale man's respect, as well as the girls'. He was obviously someone important. The fact that the Potions Master was so adamant about protecting him raised Xander's initial opinion of the dark robed man slightly.

"Very well," Dumbledore conceded. "Miss Weasley, come here, child. Miss Granger, Professor Snape, return to the school."

The words were said in the same gentle tone of voice, but the old man's eyes told Snape not to argue any further. He grabbed Hermione's hand, clutched his Portkey and disappeared without another word.

"W-who are you people?" Xander whispered.

Sitting there with his friend clutched protectively to him as he stared alternately between her and the Headmaster, anxiety showing clearly on his face, he didn't look like a threat. He looked like a frightened little boy.

"We're wizards, young man," Dumbledore answered softly. "We're here to help your friend."

Xander's eyes hardened. "By taking her away? Locking her up and throwing away the key?"

"By guiding her," Dumbledore answered.

"Really?" Xander interrupted, his tone venomous. "Where were you last fall when she decided to play God with our best friend's soul? How about when she made all of us forget who we were so her girlfriend wouldn't dump her? Or when she pulled so much magical energy through herself that when she stopped she was strung out like a junkie? Where were you then?"

"You seem to have handled everything," Dumbledore answered simply.

Xander met Dumbledore's frank stare for a moment, then started to laugh. It wasn't a pretty sound. "Yeah, and I did such a bang up job!"

"You did the best you could," Dumbledore told the young man seriously. "Despite your thoughts to the contrary, you're not to blame for your friends' choices, or those choices' consequences."

Ginny, who was listening in the unobtrusive way she'd mastered living in a house with six brothers, got the distinct impression that the Headmaster was talking about more than the woman the stranger still held to his chest.

"Your friend needs to learn about the powers she's harboring inside of her. She must learn control, or I fear there will be no avoiding disaster."

Xander sighed and Ginny could almost see his frustration ebbing from his body. "With great power comes great responsibility. I get that." He looked down at Willow, who had remained oblivious through the entire conversation. He'd never seen her so. . . .broken. "I. . . .I love her, but I don't know how to help her. Do you?"

"I can try my best," Dumbledore spoke truthfully. "I'm not entirely sure anything will help her, but she has the best chance with us."

The boy on the ground frowned and Ginny saw a glimpse of the frightening young man of before come back. "I won't let her go alone." His gaze softened as he refocused his attention to the girl in his arms. "Never alone," he whispered.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Dumbledore replied.

Xander looked up at the old wizard in shock. Professor Dumbledore smiled down at him gently. He imagined a grandfather smiled at their grandchildren like that if they weren't too busy yelling at you, or in a drunken stupor.

"Come, my boy. I think it rather prudent we leave before some of the more distressing natives decide to start hunting."

Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion at the Headmaster's statement, but the boy seemed to understand. Slowly he got to his feet, wincing as he straightened his back and adjusted the girl's slight weight in his arms. The youngest Weasley gasped as she finally got a good look at him. Not only was his face scratched, but blood had soaked through the tattered remains of his shirt. She could tell by the way he walked toward them that he hurt in more places than she could readily identify.

Xander looked down at the girl who reminded him so much of Willow and offered her a tired smile. "That bad, huh?" he asked her.

Ginny answered his question with a weak smile of her own, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Yeah, but we'll make it better." Even as she said it, she prayed with all her heart that it was true.

* * * * *

By morning, Draco had given up on ever being warm again. He didn't know how long he'd stayed huddled in the bathroom, but approaching daylight and its promise of early morning visitors had driven him back to his room. Once there, the young wizard had removed his bloody clothing, hastily patched himself up, redressed, and buried himself as deeply under his covers as he could manage. None of it helped. The darkness still pressed against him like a living thing, grasping for purchase, searching for a way inside, for control.

But no matter how tempting, the young Slytherin knew he couldn't hide forever. His classmates would get suspicious. In a house like his, suspicion undoubtedly led to violence and Draco was in no position to defend himself at the moment. So, he pushed his nausea aside and with a concentrated force of will stilled the shivers wracking his body. As he pulled on his robes, he looked down at his bandaged upper torso. The slashes still throbbed dully just above his heart, though his cheek had healed overnight. Not for the first time, he silently thanked whoever was listening that he had always been a fast healer.

"All right you useless git. Stop jumping at shadows like a frightened child, and be a man for once in your life," Draco told himself. "Let's go. Just like any other day, mate." With obvious effort, he squared his shoulders and left to face the world.

Draco was so focused on acting like his usual self that it took him a few minutes to realize something was different in the Great Hall today. All of the Slytherins he routinely fraternized with were acting much more upbeat this morning. Their mumbled words of disdain were spoken more audaciously and veiled threats to the Mudbloods had gained more edge. Something had boosted their confidence, Crabbe and Goyle especially. The other Slytherins, the one that he routinely dismissed without a second glance seemed even more withdrawn, as if they wanted to escape notice entirely.

On the other hand, many of the other students walked around almost trancelike. Hardly anyone retorted to the remarks thrown at them from the malicious students. From where he sat at the end of his house's table, he could see several students rubbing at aching temples, jumping at sudden noises, and listlessly picking at their breakfasts. He looked over to the Gryffindor table and frowned when he didn't see Potter or Weasley. Where could they be? They never missed breakfast. The youngest Weasley and Granger were in their usual spots whispering quietly back and forth. Ginny pulled her robe tighter as if warding away a frigid draft as she and Hermione got up from their seats. With a quick goodbye, Hermione exited the Great Hall, bound for class no doubt, and Ginny started for the Professor's table, a path that would take her right past the Slytherins.

Crabbe turned toward Draco and he felt the cold return with renewed force as he caught the look in the young man's eyes. With a chilling smile, Crabbe turned back toward Ginny as she walked past the table, lost in thought.

"What the -" Ginny screeched as she was grabbed by the waist and hauled back to good foot and a half. Her protest died in her throat as a metal cauldron flew past her nose.

Stumbling back in shock she fell to the floor on her backside. If that had hit her, it would have cracked her skull like a melon. Who had saved her? The arm was back around her waist without warning, lifting her to her feet. "Walk away while you still can, Weasel," a familiar voice hissed in her ear.

Ginny head snapped around in surprise. "Draco Malfoy?" she questioned in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

"Yeah, Malfoy," the girl sitting beside Crabbe chimed in. "What's the idea, ruining our fun like that?"

"Fun?" Ginny sputtered, scrambling from Draco's grip. "You call throwing a cauldron at my head fun?!"

Her face red with anger, the youngest Weasley moved toward the offending girl, but found her way blocked. "Out of my way, Malfoy!" she exclaimed.

"You heard the lady, move!" The next thing Draco knew, he was on the ground looking up at Ginny's shocked face. Several of the Slytherins stood from their chairs and joined the small crowd gathering around the Gryffindor and her unlikely Slytherin protector.

Ginny saw the Slytherins start to surround them and gulped in fright. This could get very bad. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? On the floor, Draco shook his head to dull the ringing in his ears and get his bearings.

"I don't like your attitude, Draco," he looked up and saw the seventh year from last night along with half the Slytherin table standing almost on top of him and Ginny. "You decided to help Muggle lovers now, ferret? What kind of example are you setting for the first years?"

"Leave her alone," Draco said through gritted teeth.

The seventh year threw his head back and laughed. Several of the others in the circle joined him. The bottom dropped out of Draco's stomach at the sound. "Defending a Weasel?" His eyes left Draco and looked Ginny over appraisingly. Ginny glared back, but Draco could see her trembling. "She's a pretty little thing," His eyes returned to Draco. "But what would your father think?"

The boy waited for Draco to respond, but the blond stayed silent. "What? Nothing to add with that famous mouth of yours, Malfoy?" 

Ginny looked to Draco for some kind of comeback, but nothing came, and for some reason that frightened her more than the Slytherins no one seemed to notice terrorizing them. She felt Draco start to shake where he was crouched at her feet as he stared at the older boy who stood taunting him. Ginny looked from face to face in near panic. The half dozen Slytherin continued to creep forward. Ginny suddenly felt like a mouse in a snake pit. What the hell was going on?

With a sudden burst of strength, Draco lurched to his feet, swaying slightly. With a small gasp, he broke eye contact with the leader of the group and turned to his fellow captive. Ginny hardly recognized the emotion filled gray eyes that locked with her own. He didn't say a word, just shoved her toward the Great Hall's double doors, but his eyes spoke volumes. He was terrified, for her. But she couldn't just leave him here alone.

"Slytherins, what do you think you are playing at?"

As if a balloon had popped all the energy in the room rushed away. The menacing predators from moments ago became nervous students caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. Ginny had never in her life been happier to see Professor Severus Snape.

He pinned the entire group with a cold glare. "Rest assured, you shall all be dealt with at my earliest convenience. Until then, get to your classes."

All those caught in the Potions Master's gaze nodded mutely and scurried away. Snape then turned to Ginny and Draco. "You two, come with me." He grabbed both by an arm and half dragged them out of the Great Hall.

As Snape exited the Hall, he realized that he had two of the most willful and stubborn student this school had seen in a century, and was dragging them to an untold punishment, but neither one had said a word to him or each other. When the three rounded the corner Professor Snape relinquished his hold on the two, pushing them toward the wall.

"What the bloody hell just happened in there, Weasley?" he asked, his eyes boring into the young redhead.

"I. . . .I was coming to ask you about our 'guests' when some of the Slytherins. . . ," she paused, swallowing hard at the memory. "They attacked me. Draco pulled me out of the way of a flying cauldron. He. . . .he saved me."

Snape's eyebrows rose to his hairline. Draco Malfoy had saved a Weasley? Of his own free will? "Malfoy, is this true?"

Draco didn't answer. Irritated he turned, prepared to force an answer from the stubborn youth, only to see Ginny catching him as his knees buckled. Even as the younger girl tried to help him, he flinched away until he'd wedged himself into the corner, his knees drawn to his chest.

Ginny backed away in shock when she felt Malfoy flinch from her, then looked to her professor. "What's wrong with him?" she asked. To see such a frequent tormentor in such a helpless position was disconcerting to say the least.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Did any of the students hex either of you?"

Ginny shook her head. "They seemed like they wanted to deal with us more. . .directly." She shuddered. That was the part of the experience that frightened her more than anything. Hexes she could handle. Physical violence was a new field entirely.

The Potions Master cautiously approached the boy. Draco for his part was completely oblivious to Ginny and Professor Snape's distress. His sole concern was escape from the dark wraiths plaguing his thoughts. Inwardly, he shrieked at the demons hovering everywhere, the same dark beings he'd seen in the eyes of his housemates. The ones that kept grasping for purchase inside his own mind.

Snape was decidedly nervous. First, Potter's disturbing episode, and now the apparent poster child for future Death Eaters had been attacked by his own house and apparently went off the deep end.

"What is the matter, Malfoy? Tell me," Snape spoke softly, as if afraid the boy would bolt at any intrusion. The closer he got, the more concerned he became. The body curled up in front of him was barely recognizable as the cocky, self-centered little prick with an evil streak a mile wide that he was used to. It sent home the point that despite his conniving and boasting, Draco Malfoy was still only a child.

"Malfoy? Can you hear me? Malfoy?" Frustrated, and more than a little afraid, Snape grabbed the young Slytherin by the shoulders. "Draco!"

Draco's head shot up at the sharp tone of voice. Reality snapped back into focus with a rapidity that made his head reel. He instinctively flinched away from the dark gaze he met, images of dark eyes and even darker intent swimming across his vision. Expecting a sharp blow, the gentle hand he felt on his forehead came as a surprise. He risked another glance.

"P-professor Snape?" he croaked in disbelief.

Was that relief in the Potions Master's eyes? Draco couldn't be sure; he'd never seen that look on the professor's face before. The cool hand moved from his forehead to his cheek before leaving his face entirely.

"Yes, Malfoy," Snape answered, the familiar blank mask back in place. "Can you stand?"

Draco blinked. "What?" he managed.

"Can you stand?" Snape repeated a little slower. The concerned look returned. "You need to see Madame Pomfrey."

"Oh." 

Draco rose to his feet. The room spun for a few moments, but he managed to stay upright. Satisfied the boy was fine for the moment, Snape turned to Ginny, who still stood frozen a few feet down the hall from the pair.

"Go to class, Miss Weasley. Tell your professor you had an unavoidable conference with me. I will confirm your excuse if need be." 

He didn't say it, but Ginny heard the implied, 'Tell no one what you just saw.' tacked unto the end of the sentence. She doubted anyone would believe her anyway. Her shocked paralysis broken, she turned on her heel and started toward her class, the events of the last few moments running on repeat through her head.

"Miss Weasley?" 

Ginny stopped at the sound of Snape's voice, for once without its sharp edge of disdain. "Yes, professor?"

"As I'm sure you know, something strange is definitely going on. Until everything about this situation is investigated. . . .do be careful. Don't go anywhere alone."

Ginny gave the Potions Master a tiny nod before continuing down the hall. Professor McGonagall would have her head for being so late, conference with Snape or no, she was sure. But, at the moment she didn't care, not even a little. She glanced back behind her and watched Professor Snape lead an unresisting Draco Malfoy toward the hospital wing. Oh, yeah. She definitely had more pressing matters on her mind.

* * * * *

__

TBC. . .

_Next: What's wrong with Draco? Where are Willow and Xander? And how are Harry, Ron, and Hermione going to react when they find out about the Great Hall altercation?_


	3. Chapter 3: In the Infirmary

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: PG-13, but I'm starting to get the feeling I might need to upgrade later. I'm strangely violent when I write.

Disclaimer: If I owned any of the characters in this story, I wouldn't have to work at a meat packing plant.

A/N: Sorry for the HUGE delay in updating this bad boy. I've been having fits with my other story and developing a few other plot bunnies (oh, the possibilities make my head spin!) so unfortunately this story fell to the wayside. But, don't worry, I've got about 50 pages written to revise, so you won't be waiting for too long. Thank you for all the great reviews! Hopefully you guys can all put up with lapse in updating.

On with the story!

* * * * *

The closer to the infirmary they got, Snape observed, the more withdrawn Draco Malfoy became. By the time the two reached the double door entrance to the Hospital Wing, the younger Slytherin was shaking so hard that Snape was surprised the boy was still standing. That wasn't the only surprise he got, however. Literally dozens of students filled the infirmary, some sitting in hastily obtained chairs, others lying on the beds.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" he asked, his voice edging toward shrill.

"They've been coming in all morning, Professor," one of Madame Pomfrey's assistants called out a he took a towel to a young Hufflepuff girl with a nosebleed. "We have fourteen with severe migraines, eight cases of spontaneous blindness, five nosebleeds, and more scrapes, bruises, and broken bones than I care to count."

"Dear Merlin!" Snape exclaimed. "Has the Headmaster been informed of this?"

Any answer he would have received was halted when a body was propelled out of the back room. Said body hit the floor on its back and skidded a few feet before stopping with a groan no more than a dozen feet from where Snape, his charge, and the hospital wing attendant stood.

"Leave me alone!" a voice, dark and scary even filled with grief, howled from where the body had originated before the back room's door slammed shut of its own accord.

Seconds later the door was opened again and Madame Pomfrey scurried over to the person now laying prone on the floor in the middle of the main room of the infirmary. "Are you hurt, young man?" she asked anxiously.

"Just my pride," Xander answered. He pushed himself into a sitting position and winced. "And possibly my spleen," he finished with a croak.

Everyone's attention shifted as a rage-filled scream tore from the throat of the only remaining occupant behind the back room's closed door. Xander was back on his feet in an instant. Several of the children cringed from the sound, a few attempted to hide from the hideous noise. Snape shuddered, the screech made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Madame Pomfrey's eyes widened. She looked around for some available help and suddenly noticed Severus Snape was standing only a few feet from her.

"Severus, I need your assistance with the young lady in the back, if you please." Snape could tell from the tone of her voice that she was not making a request. She grabbed the Potions Master by the arm and unceremoniously dragged him with her as she walked.

Xander started to follow, but Madame Pomfrey put up a hand to stop him. "I believe Ms. Rosenberg has made it clear that she does not wish to see you at the moment."

At the hurt look that filled the young man's eyes, Madame Pomfrey's tone softened considerably. "I know you want to help her, young man," she continued. She put a hand on Xander's shoulder. "But at the moment, she is inconsolable. Going back in there right now will only lead to you getting hurt." 

She paused. One look at Xander's face told her more than anything the young man could say. He'd already been hurt, in more ways than one, and he would gladly go through it again for the young woman he had carried into her hospital wing hours ago. The young man loved her with a passion unlike any she'd ever seen, and being unable to help her was slowly driving him mad. Not for the first time, she hoped the young witch regained her senses for her friend, if for nothing else. She smiled compassionately at Xander. "You can see her when she calms down, but for now let us handle it."

The hurt look remained, and it pulled at Madame Pomfrey's heartstrings, but he offered the nurse a small smile. "Okay. I get it. I don't have to be magically thrown through the air twice to get the idea. At least not without an Apocalypse looming." The smile faded and eyes too sad for someone so young held Madame Pomfrey's gaze. "Take care of her for me?"

"Yes, of course," the Mediwitch answered just as solemnly. She left for the back room without another word, Professor Snape not far behind.

It wasn't until the two completely left the room that he noticed the boy who must have been hiding behind the black robed professor that gave Xander the creeps. Arms wrapped around himself and eyes to the floor, he looked like hiding was still the foremost thought in his head. Xander looked around the chaotic room at the other patients. They were all gathered in groups of two or three offering support to each other, sticking together in a time of need, except for this boy. None of the others offered a sympathetic glance or even a concerned thought as far as Xander could tell. In fact, the few people who noticed the fair haired boy at all offered nothing but anger, disgust, and a certain amount of fear. All of Madame Pomfrey's assistants were tied up trying to bring some order to the pandemonium that had broken out with the huge influx of ailments. The lone quiet boy didn't even register to them.

Xander squared his shoulders. His best friend may not want to see him. . . .possibly ever again, he thought with a shudder, but he wasn't totally helpless. And one look at this strange boy's face, at his lost expression, told Xander that he needed someone's help just as much as Wills ever did. And he wouldn't ignore that, not this time. 

"Hey, kid," he started when he reached the boy's side. "You okay?" He winced at how totally lame his question sounded.

The boy's head shot up at the question. Gray eyes stared not at Xander, but at some point just past him that only the boy could see. "It's in the eyes. Crushing, choking, twisting in and out. Hands, bodies, words, all lies. Only eyes and hearts speak true."

Xander's entire body tensed. "What!" he exclaimed. In shock, he gripped the boy by his shoulders.

At the contact Draco's eyes snapped back into focus. "Huh?" He saw the slightly suspicious glint in the eyes of the stranger in front of him switch to concern before being hit by a dizzy spell that almost made him lose consciousness completely. If not for the stranger's grip on him, he would have surely fallen to the floor.

"Whoa, kid. I think you need to sit down."

The next thing he knew, Draco was being led away from the mob of afflicted students to a couch in the corner of the waiting room. The alcove was very seldomly used given the size of the Hospital Wing. Usually any visitors could stay with their ill loved ones. Now it was the only quiet spot in the entire infirmary. Any other time, the young Slytherin would have severely rebuked any attempt at help, especially from a stranger, but something about this person put him at ease. The look in the man's eyes clearly said he was worried. . . .about him. The students of Hogwarts' eyes could be seen filled with distaste, loathing, and envy on a daily basis when concerning Draco Malfoy. But never once had anyone spared an ounce of sincere worry about the silver eyed boy's welfare. Draco looked up at the stranger who had decided to help him and blinked. The darkness he kept seeing invading Hogwarts, the wraiths he was certain he saw glimpses of behind the eyes of his housemates earlier were retreating. Before, they had swarmed around him, their cold, clammy presence sending shivers through his body. Now it was as if a barrier had been erected. For the first time in over fourteen hours Draco didn't feel like he was moments away from being swallowed by something darker than he'd ever imagined. With the realization of his apparent reprieve, fatigue slammed into him like a well aimed Bludger. His eyes were slipping closed even as Xander settled him down on one of the antiquated yet surprisingly comfortable couches.

Xander turned away from the boy only to stop in surprise as a hand grabbed his wrist.

"No, stay. . . .please," Draco asked, his slurred voice signaling his losing battle with consciousness. "You're warm."

Before Xander could formulate a response to the unexpected request, Draco had surrendered completely to sleep still clutching the Californian's wrist tightly.

* * * * *

Hermione fidgeted nervously in her chair, painfully aware of the lopsided attendance. Out of all the fourth year Gryffindors only she and Neville surprisingly had made it to Potions. Everyone else had either contracted strange ailments or suffered freakish accidents. Hermione suspected that Neville had only escaped relatively unscathed because he was used to being extremely accident prone. But why was she not being affected? Was it because she'd left Hogwarts during the night? She would have to discuss it with Ginny when she next saw her.

Right now though, she and Neville had forgone the usual seating arrangement and sat together, each sending nervous glances to the much more populated Slytherin side of the classroom. Whatever strange phenomenon that had taken hold of the school had seemingly spared the Slytherin house. Every fourth year was in attendance and twice as rowdy as usual. 

Scratch that, a very prominent fourth year was quite conspicuously absent. Hermione frowned. Draco Malfoy might be an arrogant self-deluded prat, but he _never _missed Potions class. She'd seen Malfoy milk an exceedingly minor injury for all he could get, especially if it got herself or her friends in trouble. But he rarely missed class. She'd seen him stumble into class after falls during Quidditch practice, during the drafty winter months when almost everyone, save her, missed class because of a case of the sniffles. Heck, one day, Snape had actually ordered him from his classroom when he'd refused to see Madame Pomfrey for what turned out to be a rather severe case of bronchitis. Why on earth would he miss class on the day the Slytherins decided that end of term had come a week early?

Any further musing on the subject was halted by Snape's as always grandiose entrance. The imposing Potions Master surveyed the room, taking a moment to glare at each student as he pushed his longish hair away from his forehead. His hard stare lacked its usual intensity; Neville barely even cringed when Snape's eyes fell on him. And, for a man known for his remarkably cold and emotionless front, he looked rather disheveled this morning. 

Professor Snape scowled before he began speaking. "As much as I know you've all anticipated today's lesson on wart removal draughts, Headmaster Dumbledore has decided to suspend class until at least tomorrow morning in light of the outbreak of strange phenomena."

The burst of cheering from the Slytherins was silenced by another much more hostile glare from the Potions Master. "Since my house has been almost entirely spared of this chaos," Hermione snorted. Like that didn't raise any questions. "I've volunteered the older students to help Professor Sprout gather healing herbs from the greenhouses and brew some of the more simplistic potions that Madame Pomfrey will need to combat this sudden epidemic." He leveled the now silent members of his house with a cold stare. "You are to report there immediately."

The Slytherins trudged out of the dungeon classroom grumbling under their breaths and shooting glares at the two Gryffindors. Hermione and Neville stayed at their desks. Professor Snape had yet to dismiss them, but why would he detain them and not the others? Of course, he never did need reasons for what he did, Hermione thought with a frown.

After the last of the Slytherins left, Snape turned to his remaining pupils. "Mr. Longbottom," Hermione heard Neville gulp audibly beside her, but was mildly impressed when he didn't cower as much as usual. "I see that your habit of wrecking everything around you has in consequence made you much more capable of avoiding serious injury from excessive clumsiness, unlike the remainder of your house." 

Neville blinked. Was it just his imagination, or did the feared and reviled Professor Severus Snape just almost pay him a compliment?

"I suggest you return to your Common Room before your unusual dose of good luck runs its course and you tumble down a flight of shifting stairs."

"O-ok." Thoughts of compliments forgotten, Neville decided to heed the professor's advice for once and lock himself away from this madness, at least until he knew more about what was going on.

Once Neville had made his exit, Snape turned to his only remaining student. "All right, Miss Granger. Cease your eager spaniel act and ask whatever question plagues you."

Roughly a hundred and three questions clambered around in her brain all demanding to be noticed and spoken aloud. "Why wasn't Malfoy in class?"

As soon as the question flew out of her mouth her eyes widened in shock. Of all the questions, why had she asked that of all things?

Snape frowned. Leave it to Hermione Granger to ask the complicated questions, even inadvertently judging by the look of panicked horror flickering across her face. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley were involved in an altercation this morning in the Great Hall not long after your departure."

Hermione felt her face redden in anger. How dare that, that. . .ferret raise a hand against Ron's little sister. Truthfully, they were not the best of friends, but that was more because of Hermione's constant association with Harry and Ron. Harry still half expected the girl to start sending him singing cards and making doe eyes at him like during her first year. Ron, like big brothers the world over, didn't want his little sister constantly underfoot. The two were her best friends, but lately she found herself seeking out Ginny when the testosterone became too much. The friendship was new, but growing. The youngest Weasley connected with her on a level the boys failed to meet.   
The brown haired girl pushed her building rage aside with effort. "What did he do to her?" she managed to ask without clinching her teeth.

Professor Snape's lips curled into something resembling a smirk. "He saved her life, if Miss Weasley's story is to be believed."

Hermione knew she looked like a complete dolt with her mouth hanging open, but she couldn't help it. She fully expected her brain to dribble out of her ears at any moment because there was no way she had just heard what she thought. After several moments of concentrated effort, her mouth moved enough to stammer, "What?"

Professor Snape suppressed the urge to smile in maniacal glee at the completely stupefied state of one of his most. . . .irksome students. He didn't think anything short of a gag could render Miss Granger speechless. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying her confusion, but. . . .well he got few pleasures in his existence and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to make the most of it.

"Mister Malfoy prevented Miss Weasley's injury when he pulled her out of the path of a flying cauldron. When I interrupted the altercation, several of Malfoy's housemates were surrounding Miss Weasley and himself."

The young witch finally managed to kick start her higher brain functions. "But if you stepped in before anything happened, then why wasn't Malfoy in class?"

Snape scowled. Why did this child have to be so perceptive? Couldn't she just let it go? Any response he would have given was postponed by a timid tap at the door.

"Professor Snape? Are you in there?" 

"Ginny!" Hermione practically squealed as a red head poked around the door. She dragged an exasperated Weasley by the arm into the room before giving her a quick but thorough once over. "I heard what happened in the Great Hall. Are you okay? Not hurt anywhere? And what is this about Malfoy saving your life?

"Calm down, Hermione," Ginny said, with a groan. "Everything's fine, at least with me." She turned to Professor Snape. "I was kind of . . . .wondering about Draco, actually. Is he all right?"

Snape paused. "When I entered the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey recalled me to help one of our visitors," he answered Ginny. "Truthfully I haven't had the chance to check on him since then."

"Malfoy's still in the hospital wing?" Hermione asked in shock. Something other than a few cuts and bruises had obviously occurred in the Great Hall if he was still there.

Ginny shifted from foot to foot nervously. "Well. . . .could you keep me informed when you find out anything." She looked down at the stone floor, embarrassed that she'd just admitted to Snape that she was actually concerned for someone she normally could not stand.

Snape's eyes softened almost imperceptively. "I had planned to visit the hospital wing during the midday break. You may accompany me, if you wish."

"Why is Malfoy in the hospital wing, exactly?" Hermione probed, trying to redirect the conversation.

Ginny, oblivious to Hermione's inquiries, looked up at the Potions Master in shock. "I'd really appreciate that, professor. Thank you," she told him in sincere gratitude. Understanding was the last thing she had thought to get from the gloomy professor.

"What happened to Malfoy?" Hermione asked in exasperation. Did the two of them forget she was still in the room?

Ginny finally turned her attention to her friend, a concerned frown on her face. "I don't have a clue, but I want to find out." She shuddered at the memories from that morning.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "If I'm going to have to actually thank that slimy git for something, I want to know why."

Snape rolled his eyes, though he would have denied it if anyone called him on the gesture. "Well come along then, and don't get underfoot. When I left earlier, Madame Pomfrey and her assistants had their hands full."

* * * * *

It wasn't the continuing chaos or the oddities of some of the ailments that shocked Professor Snape. Neither the overflow of patients nor the frantic pace with which Madame Pomfrey's assistants struggled to deal with them surprised the potions master in the least , because it didn't even compare to the pandemonium of earlier in the day. In the few short hours since he'd left, the staff had managed to thin the crowd considerably. Though shocking, a deathly pale Draco Malfoy curled up on one of the waiting room couches with a thin blanket wrapped around him, wasn't that surprising, considering the state he'd been in when Snape had last seen him. No, the sight that made him question the possibility that he'd stepped into another reality was when he saw whose arm the young Slytherin clutched like a lifeline in his fitful slumber. What was that abhorrent youth doing anywhere near a member of his house?

His eyes narrowed in suspicion as Draco began to thrash weakly, a soft whimper escaping his lips. Whatever torture the impetuous American was inflicting on the boy was going to stop right now. Snape's attempt to wrest his pupil from Xander's grasp was halted the moment it began by a small hand grasping his arm with surprising strength. He turned around and was confronted by the somber eyes of Ginny Weasley.

"Wait," she spoke softly. Her gaze shifted from him to the couch and its two occupants. "Look at what he's doing." 

Snape found himself following her line of sight almost involuntarily. Xander, completely oblivious to the scrutiny he was under, turned to the distressed Slytherin clutching his forearm his face clouded with concern. Severus Snape watched agog as the stranger he'd last seen atop a bluff harboring a renegade witch, ran a soothing hand across Draco's forehead and cheek while speaking softly to him. Snape was too far away to hear what was being said, but not so far away that he didn't notice Draco still under the quiet litany before settling into a deeper sleep. 

Snape's posture loosened slightly at seeing the scene only to tense once again when he spotted Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley on their way out of the hospital wing, and heading directly toward where Draco and the mysterious American were sitting. The professor's attempt to go to his student were once again stopped by the youngest Weasley's hand on his arm. He seethed internally. Since when was he held back by a child? But he refrained from doing anything rash until given cause and watched the unfolding events with growing trepidation.

Ron spotted the blond Slytherin first and gently elbowed his compatriot. "Ooh, look. Ickle Dracy's got a new teddy bear." Not one to miss an opportunity to taunt his loathed enemy, Ron grabbed Harry by the arm and began moving toward the couch. After the hellacious night he'd had, a few good shots at his least favorite person would get him in higher spirits once again.

"Hey, ferret boy. Who's your new friend?" Ron asked as he and Harry got closer.

"Go away."

Snape had to stop himself from grinning like a loon at the look of encroaching terror on Weasley's face at Xander's softly spoken words. Snape had been on the receiving end of the stare Ron was getting from the American. Mild mannered the words may have been, but the dark haired boy's eyes spoke volumes.

Harry looked from the sleeping Draco to the stranger glaring at his best friend, apprehension growing inside of him. There was something different about this man and it made the Gryffindor nervous. "W-who are you," Harry whispered.

The self deprecating grin that came to Xander's face caught both boys by surprise. "No one important," he said.

In the background, Snape frowned. The boy honestly believed what he was telling the two Gryffindors. How was that possible? The young man was quickly becoming a tangle of contractions to the Potions Master. 

Despite the grin, Ron realized that the man was not going to provide more information. In fact, Xander had already returned his attention to Draco. After assuring himself that the fair-haired boy was comfortable for the moment, he looked back at Ron and Harry surprised they were still there. The menacing look from before had faded, but that didn't stop the chill going down Ron's spine when Xander's gaze locked with his again. He quavered under the man's unfathomable gaze for a few moments before it switched to Harry.

"Hey, is your friend all right?" the strange young man suddenly asked. "He looks kind of pale." Ron turned and saw Harry staring at Xander in mute shock. Xander returned the Boy Who Lived's stare with one of bewilderment. 

For his part, Harry couldn't believe who he was seeing. This was the man in his vision. Harry had thought he was dead. What else could have happened if someone was hit with the kind of power that was thrown at him?

"Everything all right, Harry?" Ron questioned. He didn't like the effect the stranger was having on his friend. He had no clue what kind of wizard the man was, and being in close proximity to Draco Malfoy did not reassure Ron in the slightest.

Harry startled slightly. "Y-yeah. Everything's good." Harry broke eye contact with the now completely confused Xander and nervously turned to his friend. "Let's go the Great Hall. Lunchtime is almost over." Harry practically ran from the Hospital Wing. Ron shot a suspicious glare at Xander before he followed the Boy Who Lived out the door.

Snape saw Madame Pomfrey moving toward Draco and his mysterious protector and quickly followed, desperately wanting to know what was happening with one of his favored students. After a quick internal debate, Hermione followed. She would get more details about Malfoy and their visitors, then she could find out what was going on with Harry. Professor Snape, Ginny, and she arrived at the couch just as Madame Pomfrey began speaking.

"Miss Rosenberg is finally resting." Hermione watched the young man breathe a sigh of relief. His expectant look at the mediwitch's approach faded into one of saddened fatigue. Madame Pomfrey's expression softened at the change and rested a supportive hand on his shoulder. "If she's calmer when she awakes, I'll ask if she wishes to see you."

Xander gave the kind woman a small smile. "Thanks." He looked down at the boy resting fitfully at his side. "What about this guy?"

Snape cleared his throat softly. "Madame Pomfrey."

"Oh, Professor Snape," she said, turning around. "I'm so glad you decided to come back here. I need some assistance with a few potions. I haven't brewed them in years and an extra set of hands would be greatly appreciated. 

"Of course," he agreed reluctantly. He knew he should have thought up a good excuse to get out of helping before he visited again. Curse Miss Granger for distracting him with difficult questions.

Her request agreed to, Madame Pomfrey focused her attention back to Xander without another word. She knew the professor and the two young ladies wanted answers about Mister Malfoy and quite possibly their recent guests, but right now she needed to focus on her first priority, healing sick children. It was the reason she went into medical wizardry. Leaning over, she felt Draco's forehead and frowned. With any normal flu bug, his fever should have lessened if not broken by now. She did not like mysteries. Well, at least he hadn't gotten any worse. She turned her gaze back to Xander. "Have you noticed anything odd or unusual in the last few hours?"

"You mean, besides everything?" Xander quipped automatically. 

Madame Pomfrey was not amused. Xander bit his bottom lip nervously. Should he tell the witch about the boy at his sides cryptic comment when he first spoke to him? He eyed the Potions Master suspiciously, but realized that if he, or the two girls with him posed any sort of threat, the mediwitch would not have let him set foot in her hospital. And letting the three hear their conversation showed him she trusted them with this information.

"What is it?" Xander looked up at the question and realized it was the redheaded girl he'd met on the bluff that had asked the question.

He threw caution to the wind and spoke. "He said some strange things to me; they didn't make any sense, like he was delirious or something. But mostly he's been having nightmares."

"Has he seen anything? Talked about things that weren't there?" The question came from Professor Snape. At the look of comprehension on Ginny's face, Hermione made a mental note to bring Ginny with her to talk to Harry and Ron.

Xander pushed down the automatic retort toward the man he'd developed an instant dislike to when he'd threatened to take Willow. The man looked genuinely concerned for the boy underneath his façade of aloof indifference.

"No," Xander answered without a trace of snide tone. He was so proud. "But he did say that I was 'warm', whatever that means. I don't know what he was talking about, I've been cold since the moment I got here. Does the sun ever shine in these parts?"

Both Hermione and Madame Pomfrey filed that statement away for later pondering while Ginny grew thoughtful. Draco was right, she realized. She felt better standing a few feet away from this young man than she had all day. Deep inside herself, she knew that this stranger was responsible, even if it was unintentional. Being near him just. . . .felt good. She couldn't explain why, but it did. She'd have to ask Hermione for her thoughts on the subject later.

Madame Pomfrey decided to examine this new evidence later and proceeded. "Well, we will just have to keep a close eye on him until his fever breaks. I've prepared a bed for him. . . ."

As soon as she got those words out Xander stood and quite easily lifted Draco into his arms. Ginny and Hermione were surprised by the casual show of strength. True, they had seen Hagrid lift much heavier objects with as much ease and many wizards cut imposing figures, especially when angry, but physical strength didn't hold much importance in a world of hexes and potions. Ginny saw that Madame Pomfrey's face held a similar look of surprise along with a certain amount of annoyance.

"What?" Xander asked, noticing their expressions. "He doesn't weigh much more than Willow."

"You shouldn't be lifting anything with your chest slashed open the way it is," Madame Pomfrey reprimanded. "I honestly don't know why you wouldn't let me fix it for you."

Xander sighed. "I told you, Madame Pomfrey, Xander and magic do not mix." He gave the older woman a lopsided grin. "Don't worry. I took care of them. Some alcohol, a little gauze, and a couple of stitches and I'm a fully repaired man."

Madame Pomfrey looked at him, puzzled. "Stitches?" she queried.

Xander gave her a helpless look. "Must be some kind of non wizard thing, I guess."

"Stitches?" Hermione repeated, much less confused, her mouth hanging open in shock. "How on Earth did you give yourself stitches?"

The humor left Xander's face. "Lots of practice," he answered cryptically.

The small group followed Madame Pomfrey to one of the beds near the back of the infirmary. A chair had been pulled up beside the bed. "Someone read my mind," Xander thought with a mental chuckle. "Something tells me I need to stick close to this kid. A gut feeling, like when I decided it was not a good idea to leave Willow alone in a dark hallway with Deadboy even though she'd been alone with him before. My instincts. . . .wow I have instincts, who'd have thought, tell me he needs my help. Or maybe I'm just telling myself this so I'll feel a little less helpless."

After Draco was settled, Madame Pomfrey commandeered Professor Snape and told the two girls to be quick about visiting. The patient didn't need to be disturbed, after all, and she was hoping she could talk Xander into getting some rest later as well.

"Are you ready to go?" Hermione asked. She had tons of ideas to discuss with Ron and Harry.

"You go ahead. I'll follow in a few minutes," Ginny told her.

Hermione wanted to protest, but one look at Ginny's expression told her it would be futile. She was fast learning that stubbornness was an inherited trait in the Weasley clan. She left reluctantly and Ginny found herself alone with Draco Malfoy and the mysterious American.

* * * * *

__

TBC. . . 

Next: Ginny and Xander talk, and Hermione gets tired of being left in the dark. 


	4. Chapter 4: Conversations, Accusations

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts (aka: Shelley)

Rating: PG-13, for now. I'll warn you if I have to up the rating.

A/N: Yeah I know. I need to write faster. Believe me, if I could, I would do nothing but write all day. I tried to give you a longer part this time since it's been a while. I'll try my hardest to get this out faster, even if I have to chain myself to my laptop for the next few weekends. I hope you enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters and I am not making any money off of this work of fiction. Quite the opposite, in fact. I work on this when I should be developing my own characters so that I can publish something original and others, hopefully, will write fan fiction about something I actually own.

With Madame Pomfrey and Snape in the back and Hermione off to parts unknown, most probably to research something or another, Ginny got her first opportunity to get a good look at both one of the school's newest arrivals and the mysteriously ailing Draco Malfoy. She was amazed at the difference between the Draco Malfoy she'd grown to know and loathe and the fragile looking boy in the bed in front of her. Asleep he looked entirely too vulnerable to stand up to the image she held of him as a cocky Slytherin bully. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything that shook her view of someone quite so much.

"He a friend of yours?"

At the other's words, Ginny realized with a start that she'd been staring. Xander chuckled at the girl's blush.

"N-no," Ginny stammered. "I was certain that he hated me until breakfast this morning."

"What happened at breakfast?" he asked with genuine curiosity. Maybe he could learn a little bit more about the boy he'd decided to watch over.

"He saved my life."

"Huh," Xander responded in a very Oz-like manner, at least for him. "Where I come from, the ones who really hate you try to kill you." He paused. "Or sometimes they become obsessed with you, but that only happens if you're a Slayer."

Ginny frowned at the unfamiliar term. "What's a Slayer?" she asked.

Xander just waved the question aside with a shake of his head. "I can't really tell you without the G-man raining fire and brimstone down on my head, but I'm sure in a big wizardy place like this someone knows." He could tell by the look on the younger girl's face that she wasn't exactly happy with the answer he gave her, so he quickly sought a change of subject. He looked around briefly, and decided to go with something obvious. "So, where am I anyway?"

Ginny recognized his tactics, but it was a valid question, so she let the American get away with it for once. "You're at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"I'm in a school?" Xander asked in bewilderment.

"Well, the hospital wing of the school to be precise," Ginny corrected with with a touch of amusement in her voice.

Xander thought that statement over for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, that explains all the kids in here, I guess. My school didn't have a hospital in it though." He snorted. "Probably should have considering everything that happened there. It would have saved on the ambulance charges if nothing else."

"Where are you from?" Ginny asked. His comments had made her curious. She wanted to know where the Portkey had taken her last night.

Xander mustered up a weak grin. "Sunnydale, California. Born and bred."

Ginny's eyes went wide. "I went all the way to California last night? Wicked!"

Xander's smile became a little more genuine at Ginny's obvious excitement. He sat in silence as Ginny muttered to herself about his little revelation until she finally seemed to wrap her mind around the situation. The two sat in relatively comfortable silence for a few minutes until Xander decided to steer their conversation back to the matter at hand. There was still something he wanted to know.

"So, this guy saved your life, huh?" he asked, indicating the blonde boy still sleeping, oblivious to the entire conversation.

"Yes," she answered distractedly, still somewhat lost in thought.

"What's his name?"

Ginny's head shot up and she stared at Xander in disbelief. "You don't know who he is?"

"I haven't really had time to ask, you know," Xander answered in irritation. "The whole him being delirous, shortly followed by unconscious kind of got in the way of the dialogue."

At the older man's tone, Ginny realized how harsh her question had sounded. "Sorry, that sounded crass. I mean, you've been helping him, sitting with him for hours, and you don't even know his name?"

"Yeah," Xander answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He needed the help. What's your point?"

Ginny could hardly believe her ears. The man truly didn't understand why she was so surprised. She'd watched him soothe Draco earlier. He'd cared for Draco just as gently and attentively as her own mother was when she or one of her brother were ill, defended him against antagonizing students, and even now watched over him. All of this, he'd done for some one he'd never met. And, the American acted like anyone would go out of their way to show such kindness, that going out of his way to help a complete stranger was no big deal. Ginny knew better.

"You are a rarity," Ginny told him with a smile.

"Yep, that's me. No one else compares," Xander responded in a mock superior tone. But she could tell he didn't get it.

He didn't think his actions warranted any kind of praise; they were instinctual. Still, the least she could do was answer his question. "His name is Draco Malfoy."

Xander looked to the boy on the bed, then back to Ginny in puzzlement. "He doesn't look very dragon-y to me."

"Not at the moment," Ginny frowned. He definitely had a point there. Without his ever present sneer and superior attitude, he was. . . smaller somehow. With a shrug, she pushed that thought until it lead to sympathy, or Merlin forbid, worry. "but trust me, usually he's quite the bully."

"Don't care for him much, do you?" Xander taunted lightly.

Ginny hesitated. "Not really. He's a total git, pardon the term. He's arrogant, egotistical, and a real pain in the arse when he decides to annoy you."

"Sounds like a real prince," Xander said snidely. Then he grinned. "Reminds me of someone from high school."

"School bully?" Ginny asked, eager to learn a little more about this stranger.

"Worse," Xander retorted. "Egotistical doesn't even scratch the surface. To hear her talk, the sun rose and set at her will."

"Her?" Ginny remarked.

"Yes, her. "She ruled the school like she was queen and the rest of us poor slubs merely playthings to cater to her whims. She had a select few that followed her around like puppies, and everyone else was fair game for her scathing remarks, yours truly most definitely among her favorite victims. And if you got on her bad side. . . . Man, she was Satan in heels."

"Yeah, that's Draco. Royalty in his own mind." She smirked. "I wouldn't totally reject the heels either. You can't really tell what people wear under their robes." She giggled a little at the word picture that made. "So, what happened to this girl?"

Xander smiled. "She grew up."

"So, she outgrew her superiority complex?"

Xander chuckled softly. "Hell, no! She's still Queen C. She has the tact of a troll in a china shop. Her tongue's just as sharp as ever, and it's even more dangerous to piss her off now that she's so good with a sword. But she's one of the most dedicated and passionate people that I know. She'd walk through the fires of Hell to help her friends. If she believes in something, she won't let anything stand in her way. She knows what she wants and she's not afraid to fight for it." Xander's gentle smile turned mischievous. "And she's a great kisser."

Ginny's mouth dropped open in shock. "You snogged her!"

"I'll never look at a broom closet the same way again," he told her with a wink. They both dissolved into fits of laughter.

Their laughter was the first thing Madame Pomfrey heard when she reentered the main room of the infirmary. She looked over to the bed in the corner and saw Xander grinning at Ginny Weasley as they sat at Draco Malfoy's bedside. It was good to see the young American smile, she decided.

Ginny was thinking much the same thing. She'd seen Xander sad and angry; she liked this playful, kind hearted man much better. But even as he joked and kidded, she still saw behind it to something else. It was his eyes that gave him away. Even as he laughed, she saw it. Infinite sadness. Behind the jokes, he was haunted. She was no stranger to tragic eyes, she'd been pinned by their stare twice before.

Eyes just as full of sorrow and worry had pleaded with her to walk away less than six hours ago. It had been the shock of her life to realize those expressive orbs belonged to a Slytherin she'd thought as cold-hearted as a snake. The reasons behind his look and his actions remained unclear, but it was something she was desperate to discover.

As for the first time she'd seen someone so haunted, well when she had witnessed that raw and traumatized gaze, too worn to ever be innocent again, she'd known exactly why they were that way. After all, she'd been staring in the mirror.

Looking over, Ginny noticed the mild, yet pointed look Madame Pomfrey was giving her from across the room and decided it was time to leave. Maybe she'd catch up with Hermione. Almost unconsciously her gaze shifted to Draco. Or, maybe she'd go somewhere and think on her own for a while.

"You want me to tell him you stopped by?" Xander asked with a tiny grin. He'd noticed the Mediwitch as well.

"No!" Ginny exclaimed, then blushed at her outburst. She bit her lip, then continued. "Don't tell him anything. It would probably just disgust him knowing a Weasley sat within twenty meters of him." Ginny sighed. "Just. . . .look out for him. I don't like him, but for some reason he helped me. I want to know what possessed him to do something so. . .not him."

Xander nodded to her request, then suddenly felt Ginny's arms wrap around his own neck. She gave really strong hugs for such a tiny little thing. "Look out for yourself too," she told him. "Don't want you staying in here any longer than you have to."

Xander hugged the back, feeling better than he had in weeks. It was kind of sad that he was this starved for attention. Part of him wanted to just hold onto her and soak up the offered affection, a rare gift to him lately. Over the last few years he and his friends had all entered into serious relationships. Anya had been a very passionate person, as her stories could attest, but the closeness he'd shared with Buffy and Willow had slowly eroded. He used to give and get hugs all the time. Well, he'd been more of a giver than a getter, but still, he'd shared a bond with the two. It had been second nature to clasp Willow's hand while they watched TV, drape an arm over Buffy's shoulders as they walked to class, or to all sleep over in Buffy's room on the weekends. Even the rampaging crush he'd had on Buffy right after he'd met her hadn't interfered with the almost constant physical interaction he'd kept with both of them.

The contact made him feel good in a way that wasn't sexual in the least. An offered hug or reassuring nudge took away some worry, eased some of the overbearing stress in the fight against evil. As long as Willow was playfully swatting at him, Buffy was rolling her eyes at his latest pun, and Dawn knew she could get as many hugs from him as she wanted, he felt safe. Helping and supporting his girls made him happy.

Over the last couple of years, his friends had stopped coming to him for help. He didn't blame them, and even expected it. He'd moved on with his life too. But over the last few years Willow and Buffy had become. . .colder, somehow. The casual closeness they had shared had disappeared leaving an emptiness deep inside him. A chasm he desperately wanted to fill. He didn't blame anyone for this. He'd genuinely grown to like Riley after a while, and Tara. . . .oh, god, poor Tara. She was the sweetest person he'd ever met, and he missed her. What Willow had done to Warren in retaliation horrified and sickened him. That didn't mean he wasn't glad the bastard was dead.

Shaking off his moment of introspection, Xander ended the hug. Ginny beamed at him before looking away shyly, surprised by her boldness.

"I need to go," she told him reluctantly. "Do you need. . . .some food or anything?"

Xander shook his head. "Nah, I'm good." He settled back in the chair at Draco's bedside before he caught Ginny's attention once again. "Wait, we forgot the most important part."

Ginny turned back around. "What?" she asked in confusion.

A hand was offered to her. "Xander Harris. And you are?"

She shook the offered hand and scrutinized the young man for a moment. Strange name for a muggle, but it suited him, she decided. "Virginia Weasley, well, Ginny for short."

Xander gave her a lopsided grin that made her heart flutter just a little. Did he have a clue how good he looked when he did that? "Nice to meet you, Ginny. Have fun at your Scooby meeting."

Now Ginny was confused again. "What?" she asked feeling rather redundant.

"I'll tell you if you come back later and spill the details of what you and your friends say about me," he answered with a cheeky grin.

"What makes you think I'm leaving to talk about you?" she retorted defensively.

He shrugged. "I know the type. Besides, that brunette girl thinks so loud I could almost hear her. She's a total research girl. The second you meet up with her, she'll ask you at least three question and make one book reference. Then she'll grill you about everything you talked about with me."

"And this doesn't bother you?"  
  
"Nope. Just as long as I'm in the loop. With all of these sick kids, including Draco here, I wanted to know what you guys come up with. Something Hellmouthy is definitely going on here."

She thought about asking Xander about that "hell mouth" term, but figured he'd be as tight lipped about it as everything else. "Goodbye, Xander. I'll be back later. But if I'm going to spy for you, I wanted some answers too."

"Yes, ma'am," Xander quipped with a mock salute. "I live to serve."

"What took you so long? Did you find out anything about Malfoy or that strange man? How is he even able to be here? It clearly states in Hogwarts, a History that muggles are not able to see the school much less enter it unless they are put through a number of spells."

Ginny bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at her bushy haired friend. She'd been avoiding Hermione, Ron, and Harry since she left Xander and Draco in the hospital wing earlier that day. She'd thought about finding some abandoned classroom to hide in, but then remembered Snape's words to her about not going anywhere alone. In the end, she'd gone to Professor McGonagall's office. She'd told the older woman that she needed a place to study for her History of Magic final in peace, but she was almost certain her Head of House had seen through the flimsy excuse. Still, she'd let her stay there without a fuss and not tried to pry. Ginny hadn't come up with any answers in the hours she sat in McGonagall's office, but she knew she couldn't avoid talking to her friends any longer.

"He's a muggle?" Harry interrupted, clearly shocked. "That doesn't make any sense," he whispered.

At his comment, Hermione's focus quickly shifted to him. "What's that supposed to mean?" She stopped and took a deep breath. Hermione told herself that she needed to calm down. She wouldn't get any answers if she transfigured her friends into newts. Although it would be funny.

"All right," she began again after her little self pep talk. "I am tired of not knowing what is going on here. So everyone better start sharing right now."

"Yeah, what she said," Ron added. "I know even less than 'Mione."

Harry figetted uncomfortably. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, who's this bloke with Malfoy for starters?"

"He's the muggle," Hermione told him dismissively.

"How the hell did a muggle get to Hogwarts?" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione sighed. "With a portkey."

"Oh, obviously," Ron scoffed. "because every muggle knows how to use a portkey."

"Don't be silly, Ron," Hermione admonished.

Ron groaned in frustration. He got out of his chair and confronted the pacing Hermione. "Then why is he here," Ron retorted.

Hermione stilled. She knew that the young man had been with the girl Snape seemed nervous around, but she had no clue why. "I don't know. He came with a girl."

"What girl?" Ron was getting more confused by the second. "Since when is there a girl?"

Hermione realized she was going to have to explain so everyone was at least on the same page even if it was about twenty pages back from where she wanted to be. "When we got to where the portkey sent us, the strange man you saw with Malfoy was holding a girl, well woman actually. She looked hurt. Snape wanted to bring her here because of something she did." Hermione, in her haste to tell the story, didn't notice Harry's shudder at that remark. Ginny however did. "But the guy wouldn't let Snape near them." Hermione grinned. "I have never seen anyone talk to Professor Snape like that. He told him. . . ."

Hermione trailed off, and her eyes widened. "He saw through your invisibility cloak, Harry!"

"Maybe he isn't a muggle," Ginny suggested.

"But he didn't know anything about wizards until we appeared in front of him. He thought we were going to a SciFi convention."

"So he doesn't know anything about magic?" Ron asked.

"No, he knows about magic," Harry spoke so quietly that the three barely heard him.

Harry swallowed heavily; he knew that there was no way he could escape telling his friends about his "episode".

"This has something to do with what happened to you last night, doesn't it?" Ginny asked nervously.

Harry nodded at the younger girl. He was surprised she had made the connection before Hermione. "I saw what happened to them. . . .to him on the top of that bluff"

"What bluff?" Ron interrupted.

"The one we found the two on," Ginny answered her brother quietly. She turned back to Harry. "What happened?"

Harry shuddered. "He saved us all."

"You mean," Ron interjected, "the crazy talk and those bloody scary black eyes were all from that man?"

"No," Harry denied. "The eyes and all of the. . . .rage and power were what he stopped. That was the girl. She was in so much pain that the only way she thought it could go away would be to. . . ."

"To burn it all," Hermione whispered in stunned horror as her mind made the connection with what Harry had spoken that night. "She tried to end the world."

Ginny gasped even as her brother paled alarmingly and sunk into a nearby chair. Two years ago she'd become intimately familiar with someone who wanted to rule the world, but to want to destroy it? Why would anyone want that? Her mind struggled to grasp the possibility, trying as she sat in silence to understand the forces that might drive someone to such lunacy.

Her brother's struggle was far from silent. "She tried to end the world! What for? And if she used magic, how in Merlin's name did a Muggle stop her? Drop a piano on her?"

"Stop being so melodramatic, Ron," Obviously Hermione had recovered enough from the shock to chide her favorite target. Although her voice still shook slightly. "In all likelihood he caught her unawares at a time when she was vulnerable during a spell and subdued her. I doubt it ever came to a head to head confrontation."

She smiled, proud to have finally solved a piece of the mystery. That is, she smiled until she looked at Harry's pale face. She quickly sobered. "There was a confrontation?"

Harry nodded.

"His chest," Ginny spoke aloud as it came together in her mind. The others turned to her curiously. She blinked slightly at the sudden attention, but plunged ahead. "When he stood up to leave. . . .it looked like a wild animal had tried, rather successfully to maul him. Something had slashed him on his cheek and across his chest."

"So. . . .a few blows get thrown and he overpowers her?" Ron guessed. It seemed feasible in his mind. The guy he'd met earlier had been rather intimidating.

Harry shook his head absently. He wasn't so much giving his friends answers as reliving the moment. "He never laid a finger on her."

Hermione was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Did he talk her out of it?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

"Then what?" Ron practically growled in frustration.

"There was a statue," Harry croaked, his mouth going dry. "An effigy to a Goddess. She knocked the man, her friend aside like a fly and threw every bit of strength she had at the idol."

Harry stopped suddenly. His whole body shook with suppressed emotion. "She wanted to die." He paused. "No, that's not quite true. She wanted the whole world to die. It didn't deserve to live after what it took from her." The Boy Who Lived took a deep breath, visibly getting his emotions under control. "But there was one thing she didn't count on."

"Her friend stopped her?" Hermione asked. The sinking feeling was getting worse.

Harry smiled sadly as he shook his head once again. "He put himself between her and the idol and stayed there until her magic ran out."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stared at Harry in silent shock. None of them had ever heard of such a thing, at least not since Harry. And with him, it was far from voluntary. The silence stretched out as each was lost in their own thoughts. Could they do what this man had done? Could they stand up to a friend like that? What would have happened to them. . . .to everyone if he had failed?

"There's still one thing that I don't understand," Ron began, once again breaking the silence.

Harry smiled at him wanely. "Just one?" he asked.

"If this man is a muggle, then why is he Ferret Boy's new bodyguard?"

Harry seemed to become more like his usual self as he mulled the question over in his head. "And why was Draco in the hospital wing? He looked like someone had cursed him with about six different diseases."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. And why would anyone ever want to help out that slimy git?" He snorted. "Whatever happened to him, I'm sure he deserved it."

He would have continued his slandering of the silver-haired Slytherin but was stopped by Hermione's hand on his shoulder. She didn't say a word, just pointedly moved her eyes in Ginny's direction. Ron followed her gaze and noticed how pale his little sister had become.

"What did he do to you?" Ron asked, his tone dangerously calm. Ginny gulped nervously even as she mentally noted with no surprise that her brother and Hermione came to almost identical conclusions At times the two thought frighteningly alike.

"Well. . .," she began, extremely aware of the curious stares she was receiving now from all three of her friends. "You see, he kind of. . . . .saved my life at breakfast."

You know, Ginny thought, Harry and Ron looked decidedly like land stranded fish with their mouths opening and closing like that. Hermione looked at the two boys sympathetically. "I know how you feel. I reacted much the same way when Professor Snape told me about it earlier.

"Professor Snape?" Ron stuttered, his face flushing in anger. He glared at his little sister. "Start explaining right now. No more trying to throw us off topic."

"That's the problem," Ginny argued. "I can't explain it. It doesn't make any sense!"

"Well, then try harder," Ron said through gritted teeth.

Ginny clenched her jaw to hold back the scathing remark at the tip of her tongue. She knew it would start a shouting match before she even uttered it. Her brother was right. She needed to tell everyone something if for no other reason to wrap her own mind around what had happened that morning. Hours of sitting in McGonagall's office had not help, maybe sharing with someone else would. She'd just start at the beginning of it all, and hoped her thoughts pulled themselves together as she went. She suddenly wished she could have brought Xander with her. She really needed some emotional warmth at the moment.

"Last night after you and Harry went to the hospital wing, Hermione and I took a portkey with Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore to Sunnydale, California."

Hermione gasped. "We went all the way to California. I didn't even think that was possible." She stopped, frowning. "Why does that city sound familiar?" She knew she'd read something about it somewhere. She'd look for references to it later.

Ginny nodded in answer to Hermione's first question, then continued. "After you and Snape left, Professor Dumbledore told X-" She stopped abruptly. Xander hadn't offered his name to just anyone, so she wouldn't betray that trust just yet. "the man that his friend needed to learn to control her magic and that the people at Hogwarts could help. That's why they're here."

"But if it's the girl that needs help then why did the guy should up too?" Ron asked

Ginny sighed sadly. "Because he didn't want her to be alone."

"She tries to burn the whole world and the bloke is worried she'll be lonely?" her brother interrupted once again. Ginny shook her head. Sometimes her brother was so dense.

Hermione saved Ginny the trouble of clubbing Ron over the head with a blunt object by taking matters into her own hands. "No, you ninny! He loves her. It's romantic."

Ron groaned. "Oh, no, not this sap again. Next thing you know, you'll be sending the American singing bloody Valentines." He shifted his attention back to his only sister. "And none of this tells us a thing about Malfoy."

"I'm getting to that part!" Ginny defended. "This morning after Hermione left the Great Hall for class, I went to talk to Professor Snape. I wanted to know if he knew anything about our newest guests. All of a sudden someone jerks me backwards by the waist and a cauldron whizzes past my nose. I turn around and find out it was Malfoy pulling me out of the way."

"It was probably his plan in the first place," Ron muttered irritably.

Ginny scowled. "You didn't see his eyes, Ron! He was scared! Not "I'm going to get in trouble" scared. Terrified, of his own housemates! And there was something different about the Slytherin when they confronted the two of us. I mean, a few of the Slytherins are bullies, but that was the first time any of them have really frightened me. They surrounded us. . . .I really don't want to know what would have happened if Professor Snape hadn't come over to investigate. As soon as he asked what was going on, the other Slytherins backed off."

"He took us out of the Great Hall and," Ginny paused as the scene replayed in her head. "Something was wrong with Malfoy. It was like he was delirious or some such thing. He didn't even realize we were there. Professor Snape had to shake him to pull him back into reality." Just the thought sent a chill up Ginny's spine. "I know that we've all had trouble with the Slytherins before, but I think this morning something else was at play."

She caught the incredulous looks on Harry and Ron's faces and sighed. They weren't accepting her theory, but then again, she had not expected them to either. But something evil was stirring. She knew this on some instinctual level. The two boys still saw her as a scared eleven year old, but she noticed the thoughtful expression on Hermione's face and felt a glimmer of hope. She decided to continue.

"Draco pushed himself into a corner and just huddled there, eerily still. But he saw something, I believe. I got the feeling he was. . . fighting for control against some force even though I couldn't see anything there."

Ron frowned. "That is ridiculous, Ginny!"

"Well you're the one who asked!" she shot back, hurt. Her brother knew she didn't make things up, especially about something so important. "If you weren't going to believe me, why did you even ask in the first place? You should have just jumped to conclusions like you always do."

For his part, Ron did look sheepish after that remark. "Sorry, Gin. But you've got to admit that it's hard to believe."

Ginny shrugged. "You weren't there. You ddn't see him." Ron found himself unable to meet his sister's steady gaze.

"What about the muggle?"

Both Ron and Ginny turned at the sudden question. "What?"

Harry swallowed, not particularly wanting to be the group's focal point at the moment. "What about the muggle man? Why was he with Draco when we saw him in the hospital wing?"

A smile came to Ginny's face at the mention of Xander. "He was just helping him out. He didn't even know who Draco was until I told him earlier. He just saw someone who was hurt and needed to help him." She sighed. "And he doesn't even think anything of it."

"Who is this guy, a bloody saint?" Ron muttered. "To tell you the truth, he made me nervous."

"Well, if the American is to be believed," Hermione chipped in. "to Draco he felt "warm". I'm not sure what to make of that statement."

Ginny frowned. "You didn't feel it when we were in the hospital wing?"

Hermione shook her head in confusion. "Feel what?"

"Being around him is like. . . .like wrapping yourself up in a wooly blanket after you've played in the snow all day, or basking in the glow of a bonfire late at night. When I was talking with him I felt comforted, safe, like he could protect me from anything."

"Listen to yourself, Gin," Ron interjected. "This stranger is protecting a Malfoy nd you're practically spouting love sonnets about him. He can't be up to any good. You're under his influence."

Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don't know what you're talking about, Ron. No one's controlling me." She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "No one will ever control me again."

Hermione and Harry exchanged nervous looks at the youngest Weasley's suddenly intense tone. Ron, however, much like older brothers worldwide, remained oblivious to his sister's rapidly boiling temper and continued unheeded.

"No one else felt anything from the American. Hell, he scared me, to tell you the truth, and Harry couldn't get away from him fast enough."

"You went after Malfoy," Ginny argued. "He was protecting him."  
  
"Protecting him?" Ron snorted. "And Malfoy is so deserving of protection, Gin. He may have saved your life, but Draco Malfoy is an evil, manipulative snake with no regard for anyone except himself. Anyone protecting him has to be bad news. And you are falling for it. Open your eyes. You're their puppet."

"I am no one's puppet!" With a booming crash, the main window of the Common Room shattered. Glass showered down around the four Gryffindors. "No one's! Not even yours, Ron." Ginny glared at her brother, her face flushed with rage. She hadn't even flinched when the window broke.

Ron's face paled as the implications of what he'd said to her hit him. "Gin. . . ."

"Save it!" Ginny said, voice cracking. "Just. . .just leave me alone."

The three Gryffindors could only gape in shocked inaction as Ginny turned and fled the Common Room in a swirl of her robes. It was several moments before anyone could speak.

"Did that just happen?" Harry whispered.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione snapped. "How could you say something so cruel? You know what happened to her during her first year."

Ron just stood staring at the door Ginny had sprinted through moments ago, still in shock.

"How could that happen?" Hermione heard Harry ask.

"I'll tell you how it happened. Ron let his mouth get ahead of his brain; that's what happened!"

Ron finally pulled his gaze from the door and looked at his feet. "What have I done?"

"No Hermione," Harry interjected more forcefully. "I mean that."

Hermione looked up and realized that Harry was looking not at her and Ron, but at the hollowed out remains of the Common Room window.

"You're an expert on Hogwarts, a History, 'Mione. What is wrong with this picture?"

By this time, Ron's attention had shifted to his friends. His worry only increased as the color drained from Hermione's face. The young woman clamped onto the back of a chair as her knees threatened to knock. Harry and Hermione shared a look.

"What?" Ron asked, now seriously anxious. "What is it?"

Hermione met his worried gaze with a shocked one of her own. "Fifty years ago, during a Quidditch match, an out of control Bludger crashed through a second story window of the castle and struck a young Hufflepuff in the head. The boy was fine after a few days, but because of this incident, and also in the event of an attack, certain actions were taken." Hermione paused and Ron saw a flicker of fear pass over her face, but it was quickly repressed. "Since that day every window in Hogwarts has been charmed to be unbreakable."

TBC. . . .

Ooooh. The plot thickens!


	5. Chapter 5: Philosophy of Choice

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: PG-13, for now, at least

Summary: BtVS/HP Crossover: I've decided to do my own after Season 6 Buffy crossover with Harry Potter. After Willow's big "destroy the world" meltdown, she and Xander are taken to Hogwarts. But all is not well at the school. Is Voldemort responsible for the latest strange happenings, or is it someone, or something else?

A/N: Here's the latest on the story front. Sorry about the delay in updating. I've been trying to get everything back in a good spot, writing wise, since my computer ate everything I wrote. Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things and update more regularly.

Once she passed the portrait of the Fat Lady, Ginny ran blindly through the abandoned hallways of Hogwarts. For once luck seemed to be in her favor, as she encountered no professors patrolling the premises or even any of the castle's ghosts during her flight. She continued to run until her breath was pushed from her body in harsh, ragged gasps and a stitch in her side from lack of air drove her to her knees. The youngest Weasley hissed in pain as the skin on her palms and knees scraped against the stone floor. It wasn't until she spent a few minutes catching her breath where she was now slumped on the ground that she took notice of her surroundings. She had fallen directly in front of the door to the hospital wing.

Ginny felt the tears she'd been holding at bay fill her eyes. "Oh, Merlin," she gasped, trying in vain to swallow back a sob. She stared disbelievingly at the double doors. "What if Ron's right?"

Inside the hospital wing, Xander Harris lifted his head and looked toward the main doors. Ever since the visit from Professor Snape and the encounter with the two boys, he'd been feeling decidedly. . . edgy. He could barely sit still, and now. . . . something was drawing him toward that door. Now, he may not have been the best student in high school, and he hadn't even attempted college, but six years fighting on the Hellmouth had taught him one thing.

Never ignore your instincts.

Sometimes, gut feelings got him into trouble, especially when it came to his love life, but he followed his instincts regardless. Why? Because as often as following a hunch had nearly gotten him killed, the times those actions had saved people's lives was just as numerous. And to Xander, that was worth the risk.

With a quick glance at his adopted charge, he left the chair at Draco's bedside and made his way to the set of oak double doors that separated Hogwarts' afflicted from the rest of the school's population. Pressing himself against the wall, he cautiously eased one of the heavy doors open. Just because his gut told him to do something didn't mean he was reckless.

Then he caught sight of a tiny red headed figure curled up on the floor crying her eyes out. Caution flew out the window. The girl looked way too much like a scene from less than a day ago for him to ignore. He rushed to the girl's side.

"Ginny?" she questioned when he got a look a the crying girl's face. He kneeled down in front of where she lay. "What is it?"

His only answer was continued sobbing. "Ginny? That floor has got to be cold."

Xander felt a tingle of fear start to build deep in his chest at her continued unresponsiveness. Visions of Hell gods and Buffy's unblinking stare flitted through his minds and were brutally shoved aside.

"Ginny? I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."

Xander tentatively reached out a hand toward the girl and felt his heart clench when she flinched away unconsciously. He aborted the motion and ran a nervous hand through his disheveled hair. "All right. You don't want to be touched. I can deal." Recent thoughts of Buffy and bathrooms flashed in his mind and his stomach dropped in dread. Those thoughts were pushed aside with much more difficulty. He realized he was probably overreacting, but if he found out his fears were grounded. . . .

"You don't feel like talking? No big. But I'm not going to leave you out here alone."

The two sat motionless on the stone floor for several minutes. Xander tried to be accommodating and let Ginny work though whatever issues she had at her own pace, but worry was making his gut clench, and truth be told, he could never stand to see anyone cry.

"Please, Gin. Just look at me. Please?" he whispered.

Ginny did not want to listen to him. She wanted to ignore the American and prove once and for all to her brother, and to herself, that she was in total control. But the raw emotion in his request, the desperation she could hear plainly in the softly spoken question made her break her own oath. The worry and fear that she saw in those brown eyes when she finally looked up almost had her seeking comfort. But she held herself in check. Barely.

Xander saw Ginny's focus shift to him and mentally sighed in relief. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Ginny scrutinized him for a few moments, as if gauging his sincerity. Xander let her. She'd only just met him, after all. And her trust had been shattered before, maybe more than once. He could tell by the look in her eyes. He was taking no chances that he'd add to that list. Near death by strangulation was not something he wanted to experience again in his lifetime, thank you very much. Finally, Ginny spoke.

"Have you ever felt like your life was out of your control?"

To Ginny's utter shock, Xander actually chuckled at the question. She bristled slightly, but when Xander met her gaze there was no mockery in his expression. "Show me someone that claims to have complete control of their lives and I'll show you a fool," he told her with a small grin.

"How can you say that?" Ginny asked, her tears making way for disbelief. "Without control we'd all be crazy!"

Xander made no move to argue, just shook his head and smiled. "Whatever you say."

Ginny could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn't agree with her, but that he was not going to press the issue with her. Probably because he just witnessed her crying like a little girl and didn't want to set her off again.

Normally she would have let him be, but her curiosity got the best of her. "But that's not what you think, is it, Xander?"

Xander's eyes widened slightly in surprise. He seemed to shrink in on himself before her very eyes. "You really want to know?" he asked uncertainly.

Ginny blinked. Why is he so shocked that I'm interested in his opinion? Did no one ever ask him anything where he came from? "Yes, I do."

And there was that stunned look again. Ginny began to get the sinking suspicion the two of them had more in common than she first thought.

Xander's mood lifted and with a touch of a smile, he bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, milady," he proclaimed with mock solemnity. He looked back up. "But can we get off the floor for this? I'm freezing."

Ginny mustered up a grin. "Sure."

Pushing off the floor with both hands, she stood upright. And immediately lost her balance as the hallway tilted wildly in her vision. A firm grip around her waist kept her from toppling over as her sense of up and down eluded her.

"You okay, Ginsy?" she dimly heard Xander ask her. So that's where the arm came from.

"Ginsy?" she asked, her thought processes still mainly focused on remembering where the floor was so she could stand upright.

She felt Xander shrug and realized she was pulled tight against him. "You look like a Ginsy to me."

Ginny leaned into the body giving her support and closed her eyes against the spinning world. She could feel the heat radiating off Xander's body through the shirt Madame Pomfrey had found for him. The arm Xander had around her waist tightened while his other hand rose to her cheek. Gentle fingertips brushed the hair that had fallen over her eyes back from her face and tucked the loose strands carefullybehind her ear.Xander's fingers were callused, kind of like Charlie's, she thought idly.

"You still with me, Ginsy?" Xander asked. Ginny's head rested on his chest and he saw the lines of stress on her face begin to relax. He smiled gently. "Guess not."

Ginny felt the arm around her waist shift slightly. "Don't freak out on me. I'm just gong to pick you up."

Ginny didn't react as he bent over and scooped her into his arms. Man, I'm doing this a lot lately, he thought as he managed to open the hospital wing doors. What is it with all of these kids falling asleep on me? Am I that boring? The girl in his arms didn't stir until he'd lain her on one of the few empty beds in the room. Ironically, it was located next to the other student he'd carried to bed that day.

"I still want to talk to you," Ginny muttered drowsily.

"Not a problem. Go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

"No," Ginny argued. She pushed herself up on her elbows slowly to prevent another dizzy spell. "If I wait until tomorrow you'll find a way to get out of the conversation." She looked up at him imploringly. "Please, tell me. I need to know."

Xander sighed. He could never resist the Helpless Girl Face, a fact that all of his girls, even Dawnie knew and used against him on a regular basis. Apparently the tactic was just as effective on this side of the Atlantic. So he gave up to the inevitable.

"The way I see it, control is an illusion. No one can change the big stuff. The world will always turn and shit is gonna happen no matter what."

Ginny frowned. "Then why even bother if you can't change anything?"

Xander sighed. "Maybe I'm not explaining this the right way. I'll give it another whirl. Okay, bad things happen to good people and all that, right?" Ginny nodded hesitantly and Xander took that as a signal to keep going. "Just because things happen that are beyond our control doesn't mean you have to just sit there and accept it."Xander saw Ginny's continued look of incomprehension and stopped. "This is just my theory, and I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer. More than likely I'm totally wrong here."

Ginny shook her head, a thoughtful expression coming to her face. "No, keep going," she told him encouragingly.

Xander shrugged, but did what she asked. "The way I see it, I've got a choice, and that gives me power. I can't just. . . . wave a magic wand and make the world do what I want it to do. No one can do that. Even. . . ." Xander swallowed heavily. "Even Willow can't change everything." The displaced Californian sighed."My Wills isthe most powerful person I've ever known," Xander grinned, but it was more to camouflage his watery eyes than from any sense of amusement. "But in the end she couldn't even make one carpenter get out of her way."

Xander stopped a moment and took a shuddering breath. "Compared to most of the people I know, I'm not even a blip on the radar screen. I can't control the world, heck, most of the time I can barely control myself.But I can choose the way I walk in it. And that can change just about everything. I've seen that firsthand. You can take change as it comes, roll with the punches, good and bad, or you can fight tooth and nail against what you see happening around you. I don't have complete control, but then again, I don't really need it either. But I've always got a choice, and so do you."

Ginny goggled at the man sitting on her bedside for a few moments. "That. . . .that actually helps a little," she ventured, still unsure about his words. They were comforting in a strange sort of way. And it gave her something to think about.

"Not to worry," Xander told her with a grin. "Confusing people is my job. Now get some sleep." He got the girl to lie down once again and she dropped up within minutes.

"Do you carry swooning damsels often?" a voice asked from the bed behind him.

Xander turned. "I carried you earlier today," he shot back at the speaker with a smirk.

Draco Malfoy blinked, for once having nothing to say. Xander's smirk widened into a lopsided grin. "Good to see you awake and not spouting nonsense, by the way. How do you feel?"

"Like death," Draco responded immediately.

Xander put a hand to Draco's forehead and frowned. "You've still got a fever. Are you dizzy? Do you feel any sharp pains anywhere or anything?"

Draco's eyes narrowed in blatant suspicion. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Your winning personality, of course," Xander quipped, before becoming serious. "Why shouldn't I be nice to you?" he asked in genuine confusion.

Draco sighed. "Because I'm a Malfoy," he told the stranger flatly. He didn't feel up to conjuring the sneer and condescending tone that usually went with that statement.

"What's a Malfoy? It's not contagious, is it?"

The blonde Slytherin saw the look of feigned anxiety on the dark haired man's face and cracked a smile despite himself. The guy just looked so goofy. "Very funny. But you didn't answer my question."

"Neither did you," Xander retorted.

Draco sighed in exasperation. The smile that came to the man at his side's face at getting that kind of reaction out of him didn't help his mood any. "Fine. No, I'm not feeling any sharp pains anywhere." He paused. "Come to think of it though, I am slightly dizzy." Draco smirked slightly. "Your turn."

Xander shrugged. "I don't judge a person by their family."

Draco frowned. "Why is that?"

"Because I don't want anyone returning the favor," Xander answered, his face solemn.

Draco rolled that statement around in his head for a few moments. "That's a rare philosophy." Almost nonexistent in the Wizarding World, as a matter of fact, where everything was based on family. This stranger had just gotten a lot more interesting.

Xander sighed. "I know. Are you always this insightful, or is it just the high fever talking?"

"It's the fever," Draco deadpanned. The man beside him snickered. Draco took the break in their conversation to look around. His eyes landed on the bed beside him and the familiar red head sleeping in it. "What happened to the Weasel?"

Xander chose to ignore the nickname. After all, he'd made up a few choice ones himself. And he could hear the underlying note of concern in the boy's voice. "I don't know," he answered Draco and frowned. "But someone really upset her. Wish I knew who. Then I could go rip their arm off and beat them with it."

Draco grinned. "I like the way you think. Not that I want to prance around defending the Weasel's honor or anything," he quickly amended. "It was probably her prat of a brother, Ron. He's always acting like he's her bloody father or something. Now, that's one Weasley whose beating I could revel in, the gangly moron. If I were her I'd tell him to shove that attitude up his arse."

Draco looked up and saw Xander looking at him with no small amount of amusement shining in his eyes. "What?" he demanded. He knew his language had been a bit crude, but he honestly hadn't thought the American would have objected, or even understood half of the words.

"Nothing," Xander assured the affronted blonde with a snicker. "You just remind me of a friend of mine, that's all. If you're ever in L.A. I'll make a point to introduce you to her."

Draco bit back the snarl at being compared to a girl and studied the relative stranger for a moment. It wasn't often that he met someone with no preconceived notions in regards to his family. And he'd never met anyone who would so readily help someone in need, not even among the Gryffindors, who in his opinion had the biggest hero complexes in the world. But he'd heard the man talking with the Weasel earlier. The American's theory had something any Gryffindor philosophy would lack, subtlety. Gryffindors were all about revolution: giant gestures that changed the face of the earth. Now the stranger's approach, working around the established system to achieve your goals, that was purely Slytherin. It was disconcerting to hear something like that coming from someone who seemed so optimistic.

"Who are you?" he asked in bafflement.

The man held out his hand. "I'm Xander. And you are. . . ?"

The Slytherin only hesitated a moment before clasping the offered hand. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Xander smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Draco." Xander let go of the boy's hand and took in the room for a moment. "So, you like it here a this witchy school?"

Draco frowned. "Uh, yeah." This stranger, Xander he reminded himself, continued to confuse him. "Hogwarts is quite nice, as schools go. You've never seen a school of Wizardry?"

Xander shook his head. "Nope. I guess they do things differently in America," the carpenter mused. "All the witches I've ever known learned on their own, or from their mothers. Maybe it's just a Hellmouth thing."

Draco gulped visibly. "H-Hellmouth?" he queried shakily.

Xander grimaced slightly at Draco's stricken look. "Yeah, Hellmouth. As in vampires, zombies, demons, and apocalypses. It's quite the vacation spot, if you're evil."

"Apocalypses?"

"Uh huh. In the plural sense." Xander watched as the Slytherin'sface went even paler than normal. "Hey, Draco, you okay? You've gone all pasty."

"It was you," Draco whispered.

"What?"  
"On the cliff. With the girl. She was full of pain. . .and death. But you knew that. She wanted to kill the whole world's pain. You just wanted to take away hers."

Xander felt a chill creep down his spine. "How do you know that?"

"I saw it," Draco's hand moved over his chest where the hidden cuts had started to sting. "I felt it. She hurt you, deeper than you realize, but you saved her. Saved her from the dark ones."

"Dark ones," Xander thought. "That can't be good."

Draco continued, his voice eerily hollow. "The Dark Ones come; they steal our lives." He started to shudder. "Pretty picture windows, can look but not see." Draco met Xander shocked gaze with frightened eyes that were all the more startling for their stark lucidity. The boy's words were not the ramblings of a delirious child. No, the Slytherin was agonizingly aware of his tenuous grip on reality. He knew that whatever was happening to him was slowly driving him insane and he was terrified. "You can see," Draco continued, still meeting Xander's gaze intensely. "You always could."

The blood drained from Xander's face. "What are you talking about it?"

"You hear the whispers, read the writing on the walls, feel the joy and the pain. It's in you, all inside of you." Draco's voice dropped until it was almost nonexistent. "You can see everything."

The boy gasped and clenched his eyes shut. Xander stared forward in stunned disbelief. What the boy was saying. . .no there was no way he was talking about him. Xander Harris was so normal he was boring. He didn't see anything. This was a Buffy thing. She was the Slayer. Or Willow. This was a world of wizardry and she is the uber-witch. Xander shuddered remembering just how much of an uber-witch his best friend could be. No Willow and magic, he decided. It never ended well.

Xander was brought out of his inner musings by a half-muffled sob. Draco sat curled into a ball on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Stop, please. Why won't it just stop. . . ." Xander heard Draco whisper, trembling.

He stood from his chair and approached the bed slowly, his concern for the Slytherin growing by the second. Judging from Draco's reaction, this was far from a normal occurrence for him. And far as Xander could tell, there was no way to help the boy through it.

"Draco?" He put an arm on the frightened boy's shoulder. When his hand made contact, the darkened corners seemed to deepen, but Xander blinked and everything returned to normal, save for the itchy tingle that had taken residence just under his skin. Disturbed, Xander gave the shoulder under his handa quick squeeze. "Maybe I should get Madame Pomfrey."

"No," Draco looked up, somehow regaining his composure. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Xander argued. "Something is seriously wrong with you and I have no idea how to help."

"Talk to me."

"What?" Xander asked, confused.

"Keep talking to me." Draco repeated. "It. . .helps me focus on what's real."

Xander looked at Draco suspiciously, but returned to the chair he had vacated. "So, what do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything," Draco answered and closed his eyes with an almost imperceptible shiver. "Just talk and I'll listen."

"Okay," Xander replied. He quickly sorted through a few topics in his mind, and just as quickly dismissed them as things a young British wizard probably wouldn't be interested in. Then a small smile crept to his face. "How about a story? I've got quite a doozy." He looked to Draco who didn't seem to have any objections and continued. "It's got all of the classics: danger, intrigue, comedy, and vengeance," Xander stopped and chuckled. "Oh, no. You can't forget the vengeance. It's also chock full of witches, demons, scantily-clad warrior women, and of course you can't forget the stuffy British librarian."

Draco turned to look at Xander with half-shut eyes. "British librarian?" he asked with a faint quirk of his eyebrow.

Xander smiled. "No epic is ever complete without one," he answered sagely. Then he launched into his tale.

TBC. . .

Next Chapter: Hermione searches for a few answers and finds even more questions.


	6. Chapter 6: The Next Morning

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: Teen, for mild swearing and future violence. This chapter's pretty tame.

Summary: Darth Willow rose and Xander saved her and the world. Do you really think that no one would notice. This is my version of what happens when Willow and Xander go to Hogwarts after the end of Season Six. Willow's troubles are far from over, but Xander's going to discover that his troubles haven't even begun.

A/N: Why did I return to college again? Oh, yeah. It was so I would have next to no time to write between school, work, and my horrible addiction to reading fanfic. I'm not going to promise I'll do better because we all know how that turns out. But I will tell you that I've already started on the next chapter, so hopefully it'll all work out. Thank you everyone for reading. I love you all!

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It took Harry a few moments to figure out what was different when he woke up that morning. He'd slept the whole night through. After everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he hadn't expected anything short of a night plagued with the terrifying images of Tom Riddle, the body of Cedric Diggory, and a dark-eyed girl burning the world. However as soon as his head hit the pillow, Harry had slipped into sleep's embrace and remained undisturbed until the sun was peeking through the bed curtains he had neglected to fully closed the night before.

Of course now that he was awake, all those events and all the questions, doubts, and fears they brought with them came back full force. Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day.

In another part of Gryffindor Tower Hermione Granger paced the length of the open area in front of the Common Room fireplace. Most of her housemates wouldn't stir from their beds until nearly eight. She had been up for nearly an hour. Normally Hermione would have spent this time reviewing her notes in preparation for the end of year exams taking place today and tomorrow. In her opinion no one could study too much for an exam.

At the moment though studying was the last thing on her mind. Her Potions exam started in less than ninety minutes and Hermione didn't even have her textbook with her. It sat forgotten on her desk where it had remained unopened all night. She hadn't touched a book all night and she didn't care. Why didn't she care? Surely something serious enough to distract Hermione from schoolwork would have Harry and Ron out for blood, right in the thick of danger being brave in the name of Gryffindors everywhere. But they weren't because they didn't know what Hermione knew.

Ginny Weasley had never returned to Gryffindor Tower last night. After the girl's explosive exit the night before the three Gryffindors hadn't known what to do. Ron was devastated by both what he'd said to his little sister and her reaction. The redheaded boy knew he had a talent of saying the exact wrong thing at the most inappropriate time, but just the thought of the look on his little sister's face at his words sent a chill down his spine.

Harry had alternated between trying to calm Ron down and worrying about the implications of the window's destruction. That had left Hermione to deal with the curious students that rushed into the Common Room directly following Ginny's exit. The Head of House, Professor McGonagall arrived not far behind them. When questioned about the incident, Hermione insisted that the window exploded on its own while they were studying in the Common Room. The professor looked dubious at the story, but as there were no signs of wand use and no magical objects in the vicinity, McGonagall took her at her word. Hermione suspected that if McGonagall ever realized how often Hermione . . .bent the truth to cover for Harry and Ron, she would be serving detention until it was time for her grandchildren to take their NEWTS.

The last thing that Harry, Ron, and Hermione wanted to do was alert any of the other professors to the fact Ginny had anything to do with the night's craziness, so they had been forced to curb their initial instincts to frantically search the school grounds from top to bottom until they found her. Instead the Gryffindors had to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary, at least nothing more than usual. This fact nearly made Ron's head explode in anger and frustration and was a major contribution to Hermione' nearly sleepless night, not to mention her anxiety this morning.

The problem was, Hermione had a fairly good idea where Ginny had ended up last night. She knew and she didn't like it one bit. Harry and Ron's reactions would not be pretty if she was proven right. They already thought that Ginny had gone barmy. On the other hand, Hermione knew they were missing something. She knew that everything that had happened over the last day and a half connected somehow. But she barely had enough pieces to see the puzzle's outline, much less what it represented.

Class started in little over an hour, but she was too worried to study. So, she'd just have to find another way to make that hour count. She needed answers; nothing frustrated her more than a lack of knowledge. She had a feeling that if she found Ginny she would get a few more of the answers that she craved. Hermione squared her shoulders and made a beeline for the infirmary.

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The first sound that reached Hermione's ears as she pushed open the double doors to the Infirmary was laughter. A small giggling voice echoed from somewhere out of sight toward the back. It was a rare sound in a place that routinely housed sick children which automatically kicked Hermione's inborn paranoia up a notch. As she walked fully into the room, voices became discernable.

". . . .The G-Man burst through the basement door and glared at the evil bug lady who dared to kidnap one of his students. 'Unhand that boy this instant you loathsome creature!' G-Man bellowed. He wasn't at all wigged by the fact that she was yelling at a HUGE bug. I mean, way huge. Andre the Giant huge!"

Hermione, being from a Muggle background and an avid fan of The Princess Bride, got an instant mental image of a dark cloaked insect waving its arms shouting 'There will be no survivors!' and had to bite her lip to retain her silence. From the conspicuous silence around the storyteller however, she figured the reference was lost on the rest of his audience. But the storyteller continued, undaunted.

"The evil bug lady hissed at the G-Man. He was disturbing her while she was busy trying to kill things! It reared up on its hind legs, ready to tear the librarian limb from limb. But the G-Man just laughed. 'I warned you,' he said. Then he pulled out his secret weapon."

"What was it?" Hermione heard a young voice chime.

"A wand?" another asked.

"A sword?" suggested another.

"A magic potion?"

"Nope, nothing so trivial as that," Xander dismissed.

Okay, now Hermione was curious despite herself. She crept to the edge of the doorway just inside of the infirmary occupants' line of sight. From her spot she could se the American sitting in a chair near the back of the room. She'd known him to be the storyteller due to the accent, but spying from her position she got the first glimpse of his audience.

Over a dozen children crowded the back of the infirmary. Several sat on the stone floor wrapped in blankets, a couple perched on the ends of nearby beds. And the youngest student currently at Hogwarts, tiny, shy, little Gretta Gibbons had taken up residence in the American's lap where she was currently half-asleep cuddled against the stranger's chest.

"The G-Man needs no such weapons," the American continued, the children, Hermione included, listening avidly. "Although he likes to use them sometimes for fun. No, all he needed was his handkerchief."

"Handkerchief?" one boy squeaked in disbelief.

"Yes, his handkerchief," Xander confirmed. "He looked the evil bug lady straight in the eye. Quick as a flash G-Man whipped off his glasses and started polishing them with all his might. The evil bug lady shrieked and screaming and tried to get away from the awful 'squeak, squeak, squeak!' of the glasses."

"'Stop! I can't it!' the bug lady cried. But the G-Man was ruthless. 'SQUEAK! squeak, SQUEAK, SQUEAK!' The squeakily-squeak of the glasses got louder and louder until. . . . BOOM!"

The American clapped his hands together. Several of the closer students jumped in fright before breaking out in shock-induced giggles.

The storyteller smiled. "And then the evil bug lady was no more!" The audience erupted into quiet applause to which the American gave a tiny bow from his seated position.

"And G-Man saved the boy?" Gretta asked quietly from her continued position in the older man's lap.

"Yeah, the G-Man and his women warrior friends saved the boy," Xander answered. "Then the warrior women went off to hunt the other evil monsters in the town.

"Didn't the boy go fight with them?" a boy she recognized as a second year Gryffindor asked.

"Well, the boy was still feeling bad about being tricked so easily by the evil bug lady, not to mention hungry since he'd been locked in that cage for hours. So, G-Man took the boy out for burgers and ice cream."

"Enjoying the story, Hermione?"

The bushy-haired Gryffindor was startled so badly she nearly lost her balance before she spun around glaring at a smirking Ginny.

"Where have you been?" Hermione hissed at the redhead.

Ginny resisted the urge to give the older girl a snarky comeback. She could tell that underneath the overbearing mother-hen attitude Hermione was genuinely concerned.

"I slept in the infirmary." Ginny cringed at the suspicious look that came to Hermione's face at her statement. "It's just where I ended up last night!" she defended. "I couldn't go back to the Common Room, not after. . . ."

The redhead trailed off, the thought of her brother's harsh words still causing a twinge of distress. Hermione's eyes softened considerably. "Ron's really sorry about what he said."

Ginny snorted. "Of course he's sorry. He is always sorry. But that never stops him from saying something hurtful the next time he gets angry." The girl sighed. "I'll get over it; I always do. I can't really blame him anyway. My temper's even worse than his."

When Ginny saw the speculative gleam enter the older Gryffindor's eyes, she knew she'd said the wrong thing. She did not want to talk about her explosion, pun intended, in the Common Room the night before. In fact, she didn't even want to think about the implications of that kind of output of power. Hermione was not the only person to read _Hogwarts: A History. _But Ginny wanted to stay in denial a little while longer, so she decided a random segue was in order.

"So, do you think we can get Xander instated as the school storyteller?"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

Ginny barely suppressed her gleeful grin at her successful subject change. "Xander," she clarified and waved a hand toward the back of the infirmary. "I think he as a real talent. To hear him tell it, this G-Man is the greatest bloke since Merlin. He forged an alliance with a legendary vampire slaying warrior woman by throwing a book at her. It apparently scared the warrior so badly that she decided it was better to work with the G-Man than against him. Not long after the G-Man saved the warrior woman from an evil witch single-handedly by reading aloud from the world's most boring magic book until the witch went insane and sent herself to another dimension."

"Is that so?" Hermione commented with an amused grin at Ginny's enthusiasm for the stories she mentioned. Idly, Hermione wondered how a supposed Muggle librarian got his hands on a History of Magic textbook to accomplish such a feat.

Ginny returned Hermione's grin and continued. 'Of course my favorite story so far was when the G-Man lulled an organ stealing demon into a false sense of security by pretending to be captured until the warrior woman and her Scoobies arrived and defeated the organ-harvesting fiend."

"Why couldn't the G-Man defeat the demon by himself if he's such a great demon hunter?" Hermione questioned, choosing to ignore for the moment the fact that the warrior woman's friends were named after a cartoon.

"The warrior woman and her Scoobies needed to practice if they ever wanted to become as legendary as the G-Man. He can't fight all their battles for them. Please the G-Man didn't want to get knocked out again. Xander said the guy gets hit on the head all of the time."

Hermione smirked. "You do realize that the American is most certainly making up every bit of these stories, right?"

Ginny blushed slightly and pouted. "Ruin all my fun, why don't you, 'Mione. What's the harm in a good story even if it is all balderdash?"

The conversation was halted when Madame Pomfrey emerged from the back room of the Medical Wing. Hermione watched as the American met the mediwitch's eyes hopefully as she entered the room. Madame Pomfrey gave a slight shake of her head at the young man's silent inquiry. Xander slumped almost imperceptivity before giving the older woman a small smile in thanks. The mediwitch gave Xander one last concerned look before moving her gaze to the rest of the room.

"Well it seems that you children are feeling much better this morning." She was answered by several nods, a few "Yes, Madame Pomfrey's", and a quiet outburst of giggling from a couple of Ravenclaws in the corner. Madame Pomfrey turned to Xander with another smile. "I say, your storytelling is a better cure than chocolate, my boy."

"Nothing's better than chocolate, ma'am," the American replied glibly with a much more genuine grin.

"Too right!" one of the girls sitting on the floor agreed wholeheartedly.

Madame Pomfrey grinned at the children's antics. And to think, this time yesterday all of these children had been almost too sick to move. "Yes, well I'm afraid story time is over and all of you healthy children need to prepare for class."

The groans following that statement made Xander snicker in amusement. However, Madame Pomfrey didn't bat an eyelash at the complaints. "All right, everyone. Up to the front of the infirmary. I'll give you all a quick check, then it's back to your rooms and off to start a new day.

The Hogwarts students gathered their blankets from the floor and with some grumbles, but far less complaining than Xander thought he would have offered at their age, allowed themselves to be herded toward the front entrance to the infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey caught sight of Ginny and Hermione as she followed the group, but made no comment other than a pointed look directed their way. The two girls took that to mean they were welcome in the infirmary, for a little while longer at least.

Ginny led the way toward Xander with Hermione following a couple of steps behind her. The older girl watched the strange American reach over and gently place a hand on Draco Malfoy brow. A frown flitted across Xander's features briefly and for a moment the man looked beyond weary. However the fatigued look soon faded. With a barely visible sigh, Xander removed his hand and adjusted the blankets around Draco's shoulders.

"Good morning, Xander," Ginny said as she made it to the man's side. Hermione was more than mildly surprised when Ginny hugged the stranger without any hesitation. The lopsided grin Xander sent Ginny's way made Hermione's heart speed up just a little. Strange man or not, when the young American smiled she doubted even Gilderoy Lockhart in his pre-Obliviated days could look any nicer. With an inward wince, Hermione shoved that stray thought aside ruthlessly.

Xander ended his hug with Ginny and shifted his gaze to Hermione. "Who's your friend?" he asked Ginny.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

Xander winced. "Hey, watch who you call sir, missy!" he rebuked mockingly. He offered her a smaller version of the grin he gave to Ginny. "Anybody who knows me will think that you're crazy. Let's try again. I'm Xander."

"Hermione," the brunette Gryffindor answered pertly with a hand held out. Xander grabbed her hand without hesitation, accepting her offering of greeting.

"It's nice to meet you, Hermione," Xander told her with another grin. "You a friend of the dragon?"

Hermione frowned at the unexpected change in subject. What the devil was Xander talking about? A quick glance at Ginny yielded an infuriatingly smug look from the redhead followed by a subtle gesture at the Slytherin occupying the bed beside them.

"Draco?" Hermione said with a squeak.

"Yes, Draco," Xander confirmed with a tone of exasperation. "Or as I'm thinking of renaming him, Friendless Guy. Geez, does the kid kill puppies for fun or something?"

"No, nothing like that," Hermione answered. "He's just mean to my friends and I and . . . well pretty much everyone else. He constantly sneers, mocks, and ridicules anyone who doesn't agree with his point of view. He's an arsehole!"

Ginny giggle at Hermione's breach of etiquette. Hermione winced at her own strident tone. She really should not have said that last part, especially to the man who was helping out the Slytherin during a tough time. Personally she couldn't dislike a person more than she disliked Draco Malfoy, with good reason in her opinion. But she felt kind of guilty for insulting him when he couldn't fight back.

"You realize that this school is the complete opposite of probably every school in the world, don't you?"

"What?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"Normally the guy with messy hair, baggy clothes, and broken glasses is bullied and made fun of constantly. The snob with the superior attitude has people falling all over themselves to be his little minions. It's the natural order of high school. Is everything backwards here? Do the toilet swirl the other way too?"

"No, that's just in the southern hemisphere," Hermione pointed out.

Xander gaped at the young brunette dumbly for several seconds, then surprised the Gryffindor by bursting out into quiet laughter. "I don't care what anyone tells you, Hermione, don't ever change," the young man managed to choked out past his snickering.

Hermione smiled even as she tried to prevent from blushing at the American's statement. No one other than her parents, and at times Professor McGonagall had ever done more than reluctantly tolerate her bookish ways. That or try to copy all of her assignments. Xander's encouragement felt better than she could have imagined. Of course, now she would be putting up with Ginny's snarky comments over the incident.

The expected teasing never came. Turning, Hermione realized that Ginny's attention was focused on the unnaturally pale Slytherin lying motionless on the bed in front of her. Seeing her nearly constant antagonizer in such a state disconcerted Hermione to say the least. His apparent illness did not make her like him any more than her usual opinion of seething hatred. But even though Draco spent his time taunting, harassing, and outright threatening her and her friends, she realized with a start that she gotten used to seeing him everyday.

"Is he doing any better?" Hermione found herself asking before she could stop herself.

Xander sighed and Hermione again glimpsed fatigue in his body language. "He's sleeping finally. That's something at least." The American put a gentle hand to Draco's forehead. "He's still pretty warm though. I think Madame Pomfrey's stumped. I think most flu bugs should have either run their course or taken a turn for the worse by now."

"Maybe it's not the flu," Ginny injected quietly. Her concerned gaze shifted from Draco to Xander. "Maybe it's something else."

Xander's gaze darkened. "Yeah. But what else could it be?"

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To be continued. . .

_Next chapter: You'll find out what else!_


	7. Chapter 7: Malfoy Family Curse?

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: Teen, or that's where it's at so far. Depending on how morbid or violent I decide to get, it might go up later.

A/N: I actually updated this story! It's proof that miracles do happen. This chapter's been sitting on my computer for a while. I wanted to add more, but I need a little more time to think on the other scene I had planned to include. Hopefully my muse won't curl up and die again and I'll add more soon (or soonish). Happy reading!

_Previously:_

_"Is he doing any better?" Hermione found herself asking before she could stop herself. _

_Xander sighed and Hermione again glimpsed fatigue in his body language. "He's sleeping finally. That's something at least." The American put a gentle hand to Draco's forehead. "He's still pretty warm though. I think Madame Pomfrey's stumped. I think most flu bugs should have either run their course or taken a turn for the worse by now."_

_"Maybe it's not the flu," Ginny injected quietly. Her concerned gaze shifted from Draco to Xander. "Maybe it's something else."_

_Xander's gaze darkened. "Yeah. But what else could it be?"_

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"It's the Malfoy family curse!" Neville whispered conspiratorially.

Harry frowned at his fellow Gryffindor fourth year from across the table in the Great Hall. "What are you talking about, Neville?"

Ron, on the other hand, had an expression on his face that was rapidly approaching unholy glee. "Do you really think so, Nev? You wouldn't just get a bloke's hopes up for nothing would you?"

"Well, I don't know for sure," Neville quickly amended hastily. "But from what Gran has told me, it fits."

"What are the two of you talking about?" Harry interrupted.

The two boys blinked at the Boy Who Lived before looking sheepish. At times like this Harry felt his lack of a wizarding upbringing acutely. Ron, Neville, and other students that grew up in the Wizarding World often took for granted that he knew certain facts that they learned before Hogwarts. But in truth, he, Hermione, and other Muggleborn wizards were entering an entirely different culture when they came to school. And no matter how many books they read, Muggleborn students still missed some things that to Purebloods were ingrained. Of course, conversely, if you dropped Ron or Neville in the middle of Muggle London, they would be even more lost than he was here, he would wager.

"Well, you know that the Malfoy family is one of the oldest wizarding families," Neville began.

"The prat's told everyone enough times to get the point across," Ron interjected bitterly.

Neville shot Ron a look, but continued his explanation without any further comment. "Well, he's not exaggerating. They've been a big part of the government almost as long as we've had a Ministry. And from what Gran tells me, the Malfoy family wasn't always so small."

"That's not a big surprise, Nev," Harry argued. "Most of the pureblood families are getting smaller, especially if they insist on only marrying other pureblood wizards."

"You don't get it, Harry," Ron insisted. "A couple of hundred years ago the Malfoy family was as big as mine."

Harry thought about the prospect of that many Draco Malfoys in the world and shuddered. Then the full scope of that statement hit him. "What happened to all of them?"

"The curse happened," Neville answered. "One of the Malfoys married a Muggleborn witch." At Harry's reaction to that statement, Neville shrugged. "Hey, it happens. In a family that size, someone's going to rebel. And it really wasn't as big of a deal to the family back then. Anyway, the rest of the Malfoy family basically ignored the black sheep of the family for years. He and his wife just kept to themselves and raised a family. Not much was heard about them in the Wizarding World for a couple of decades."

"Then one day the Headmaster of Hogwarts at the time got an owl from the estranged Malfoy. 

The letter said that one of the man's daughters had started raving about shaking earth in the middle of the town marketplace. Malfoy hadn't thought anything about it at the time. His daughter was quite shy and he just figured that the large crowd had made her anxious."

"At least that's what he thought until later that day when a nearby mine had a cave-in. The father didn't know what to do, so he petitioned his old headmaster for help."

"So, what did the Headmaster do about it?" Harry asked.

Neville's expression darkened. "They didn't have time to do anything about it. When the Headmaster sent word back to Malfoy, the man was already dead. By the time the Aurors arrived in the village, so were the man's wife, his two other daughters, and every other Malfoy that lived within a thirty mile radius."

"Was it the Killing Curse?" Harry asked cautiously.

'No," Neville shook his head and shuddered. "They were ripped apart."

The boy didn't seem ready to continue after such a revelation, so Ron took up the narration. "The few people in the village that survived were incomprehensible. The villagers kept saying that the Malfoy girl was screaming and people were dying."

"Over half of the Malfoy family was dead in less than a week. The raving girl was never seen again. No one knows why it happened. Most wizards think that the Malfoys finally played with some Dark Arts that bit back, and the Malfoy family has never recovered."

Harry looked at his two friends, stunned. Neville returned his gaze with sympathy. "Every couple of decades or so afterward it would happen again. One of the younger Malfoy family members goes crazy and then dies shortly after, usually along with any other Malfoy in the vicinity. It is part of the reason the remaining Malfoys are so insistent on marrying pureblood wizards. They're hoping to breed out the imperfection."

"An entire family cursed with madness and death?" Harry exclaimed. "Why haven't I heard about this?"

Ron shrugged. "For the last forty years or so, nothing's happened. The Malfoy family is down to Draco, his mum and dad, and a couple of very distant cousins. Lucius says this is because his bloodline is pure. My dad figures that the git made a deal with You Know Who to protect him from the curse."

"But whatever protection Lucius may or may not have gotten, it apparently does not extend to his son." Harry mused.

Neville sighed. "It would appear so, if the rumors going around the school are true. A Malfoy's gone mad. The only thing missing now is the death."

Any response Harry or Ron could make to Neville's rather morbid comment was halted by a sudden flash of light in the middle of the Great Hall. Harry hurriedly blinked away his temporary blindness from the flash and was faced with the impossible. Someone had just Apparated into Hogwarts. And she looked angry. Very angry.

"All right," she shouted to the room at large. "Where is he?"

Ron gaped at the sight before him, then turned to Neville and glared. "You just had to say something, didn't you, Nev?"

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In the Medical Wing, an explanation much like Neville's was being repeated to Hermione and Xander by Ginny. Hermione looked shocked and appalled about the whole situation and Draco's apparently cursed state. Xander looked thoughtful but refrained from making any comments to the two girls. That is until Hermione started brainstorming for possible counter curses to try to reverse Draco's condition.

"Whoa, hold on a sec," Xander interrupted. "Let's not jump to conclusions here."

"What?" Hermione said. "But we have to work on a way to fix this."

"What if there's nothing to fix?" Xander countered. "How true is the story Ginny told us? It happened over a hundred years ago and has been passed through the Wizarding World's rumor mill. It could be totally blown out of proportion by now. And people being ripped to pieces? I thought you guys flicked wands at each other when you cursed people."

"He has a point," Hermione agreed. "But in the Wizarding World, unbelievable legends have a startling habit of being true."

Xander sighed. "Believe me, that's not just true in the Wizarding World. But do you really want 

to take that chance? What if you try one of these counter curses and there's no curse on Draco? What would it do to him?"

Hermione frowned. "Well, it depends on the counter curse. Simple counter curse often react very little if they are applied incorrectly."

"And do hundred year old family curses fall under the category of simple?" Xander asked.

The brunette young woman sighed. "Not in the least. With no idea of the curse, anyone trying to break it would be casting totally blind. The results could be . . . catastrophic."

Xander grinned at the now disheartened brunette. "I'm glad you see it my way. My brain isn't working fast enough right now to think of more reasons to convince you."

Hermione smiled sheepishly and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear. "In retrospect, blindly casting a counter curse would not be the wisest course of action. But if what is going on is not a curse, then what could it be?"

"Bad Karma?" came the weak retort from the bed beside them.

Ginny jumped and spun to face Draco's bed. "You're awake!"

"I hadn't noticed." Draco's expression lacked his usual condescending glare, but the impression of the expression was plain even in his faint tone.

Ginny completely ignored the Slytherin's snide remark, choosing to concentrate on his pallid complexion and fever-glazed eyes. "Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?"

"Should I go fetch Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione interjected in the middle of Ginny's babbling.

Xander held back the grin that tried to turn up his lips at the sight of Draco's flabbergasted expression. The boy clearly did not know how to deal with the sudden attention from the two girls. Draco looked like he was torn between making a break for the door and hiding under the covers until the scary people went away. After a few moments, Draco seemed to notice Xander's presence and sent the man one of the most pitiful pleading looks the Sunnydaler had ever seen. And after spending years in the company of Willow, Buffy, and Dawn that was saying something. Xander took pity on the boy.

"Girls, why don't you go get Madame Pomfrey. She wanted to know when Draco woke so she could get another look at him."

The girls practically ran to get Madame Pomfrey. Xander thought they were fleeing to escape the awkwardness of the situation. Draco switched from gaping at where Ginny and Hermione stood to gazing at Xander quizzically. Xander held the younger boy's stare for a few seconds until he couldn't deny his curiosity any longer.

"What?" Xander asked self-consciously.

"You stayed," Draco said with more than a trace of disbelief. "All night."

Xander shrugged. "Yeah, of course I did." He frowned when he saw Draco drop his gaze. "What is it?"

"It's just. . . " A faint blush crept into Draco's pale cheeks. "I didn't think you would."

Xander grimaced. He didn't need to hear the, "No one else ever has." to know it was there. Until Willow and Jesse, and later Giles and the Summers clan, it was a phrase he had uttered more than once himself. At that moment, Xander made a decision.

"Hey," Xander reached forward and cupped Draco's chin gently before lifting the boy's face until their gazes met. "You're sick and you needed a friend. So I stayed."

Draco looked incredulous. "That's it? What's the catch?"

Xander grinned even as his heart clenched at the complete disbelief in Draco's tone. He'd gotten the impression that this kid could be a bully, but had Draco ever had a friend? "No catch. You need me; I'm there. That's how friends work."

"Friends?" Was that a bit of hope in Draco's voice?

"Yeah, friends. I may not know many things, but I know how to be a good friend." Xander's gazed moved away from Draco's to focus on the door at the back of the infirmary. "I learned from the best."

Draco saw where the American's attention had gone and frowned. Steeling his resolve, he reached out and grabbed Xander's hand. "You're worried about your friend, aren't you?"

Xander focused back on the boy in front of him. "What?"

"You're worried. About the girl. The girl with the black and green fire and the sharp nails."

Xander gaped. It took three tries to make any sounds come out of his mouth. "H-how?"

Draco's hand clenched Xander's a little tighter even as his other hand clenched at the hem of this shirt nervously. "I dreamed it. I saw her and felt. . . I felt everything."

Xander was amazed. "How often does this kind of thing happen to you?"

"Nothing like this has ever happened to me. Now it keeps happening. I hear things that should not be there. Whispers that won't leave me alone. And every time I close my eyes. . ." Draco trailed off and began to shiver.

Xander's arm was around the boy's quaking shoulders before he realized he'd moved. He could feel the heat radiating from the body under his hand. Eyes that moments ago were focused on him now stared at something far away. Madame Pomfrey, less than a meter from the bed, held Ginny and Hermione back as the two tried to approach.

"Draco?" Xander asked softly. "Can you hear me?" Draco did not respond. Xander gulped audibly. "Come on, buddy. What's going on?" The Sunnydale resident was out of his element on this one. Madame Pomfrey could see barely hidden panic in the young man's eyes as he met her gaze from his place supporting Draco on the bed.

Xander started to shift his position perched on the edge of the bed to give Madame Pomfrey better access to Draco. His movement was stopped abruptly when the boy in question clamped onto his arm. Xander's eyes snapped back to Draco's face. The vague stare was replaced with one of encroaching terror.

"They're so dark," Draco rasped. His voice, though harsh, was barely above a whisper. "They thrive in darkness, oily and slick. In the mind and in the eyes: uncertainty is their gateway, destruction is their path. And they're angry. . . so, so angry."

Draco paused, taking several gasping breaths. "We. . . .We're their way out."

"Whose way out, dearie?" Madame Pomfrey interrupted quietly. Her voice held no censure or disbelief, only infinite patience.

"I don't know," Draco practically sobbed. The boy seemed about to say more, but stopped, took a few shuddering breaths, and attempted to calm himself. Everyone could tell it wasn't working.

"Xander?" The grip on Xander's arm got tighter. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead and his eyes cleared, though the terror remained.

"Yeah, kid?" Xander answered his own voice rough and uncertain.

"Every time I close my eyes I keep seeing them." Draco met Xander's gaze. The American watched as a single tear slid down the boy's cheek. "I don't want to see them anymore."

Xander was no stranger to feeling helpless. He had grown up on the hell mouth. He had helped supernaturally powerful individuals fight monsters for over half a decade. For nearly a decade before that, Xander had watched his parents try to solve their problems with shouting, blame throwing, and alcohol. This wasn't the first time Xander didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could. He hugged Draco, said nothing about the tears he felt soak into his shirt, and held the boy until the shaking stopped. That's what friends were for.

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_Next time: You get to find out what kind of havoc Neville called down upon them with his jinxing statement!_


	8. Chapter 8: Demons and Mother Hens

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: Teen. If you can watch the show and read the books, then you'll be okay reading this story.

A/N: This story isn't abandoned . . . anymore! That's right! I've actually gotten some inspiration (about two and a half chapters' worth). Here's the first one. I'd like to say the next one will be out soon, but anyone who's followed this story knows I'm not a reliable updater. But I do promise to try my best! Anyway, I'd like to give a great big thank you to everyone who has stuck with me despite my infrequent updates. This story is for you guys and girls!

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_Back in the Great Hall_

Every eye in the Great Hall turned toward their newest arrival. Was this an attack? Had You-Know-Who attained the power to breach Hogwarts' extensive wards? The woman in their midst was frightening to be sure, but was she murderous?

After several seconds of shocked silence, Professor Flitwick cleared his throat subtly. "Where is . . . who exactly?" he questioned hesitantly.

The mysterious woman huffed and folded her arms across her chest. Many of the teen-aged boys took notice of how this accentuated certain assets, the fact she might very well be there to kill them all taking a backseat to their hormones.

The woman scowled. "My traitorous, beady-eyed ex-fiancée!" she clarified rather unhelpfully.

Most of the students did nothing but blink stupidly. Their brains had yet to process past the fact of the woman's supposedly impossible Apparation. A few of the older, and bolder, students turned toward Professor Snape. The glare he shot their way could have cut glass.

Harry blinked as his brain finally accepted the sight before him. A woman had Apparated into the Great Hall during breakfast? In the grand scheme of things, Harry had seen weirder. So, it was time to move on to other matters. With a fortifying breath, Harry did something that proved to the rest of the school that he belonged in the House of Goddrick Gryffindor. He spoke.

"Excuse me, uh, miss?" Harry stated, desperately hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. "Who are you?"

The woman frowned. It really wasn't a good look for her, Harry thought inanely. "Honestly, what are these wizards teaching you magical school-aged children these days?" She snorted. "Probably some nonsense about Arithromancy." She met the boy's eyes with a glare to rival Snape's. "What's the matter? Don't you recognize a vengeance demon when you see one?"

If Hermione had been at breakfast she surely would have given a startled gasp at this and a flurry of obscure information. As it was, half the Ravenclaw table took up her slack if their exclamation of alarm was any indication. A couple of the students at the Slytherin table also exchanged cautious glances. Up at the Head Table, Professor Snape was starting to look decidedly nervous.

Harry gulped. Anything that made Snape nervous had to be bad. Or involve shampoo. "No, miss," Harry apologized. I didn't realize. A vengeance demon? Really? How's that working out for you?"

Snape just resisted slamming his forehead into the table in front of him at Potter's moronic question. Did Voldemort's attempt to kill Harry as a baby knock all the sense out of him? Was the child feeble-minded in some way?

Luckily, Harry was saved from his awkward and potentially hazardous line of questions by the arrival of Albus Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

"Anyanka!" Dumbledore exclaimed with a smile and an especially bright twinkle in his eyes. "It's been decades since I last saw you."

Anya's confrontational stance relaxed slightly at the upbeat greeting. "Albus," she acknowledged. "You're looking far less wrinkly than you should at your age."

The headmaster's grin didn't dim in the slightest. "Yes. And I see you are also putting your best face forward, so to speak, my dear?"

"I've grown quite attached to my mortal guise in the past few years." Anya smiled suddenly and the softening of her appearance was quite drastic. "My facial features are both remarkably symmetrical and quite attractive to look at. Many men and women have told me so."

"What brings you here, Anyanka?" Professor McGonagall interrupted. "You know the Wizarding world frowns upon you and the rest of D'Hoffryn's group granting wishes on school grounds."

"Oh, I'm not here looking for scorned teenage witches," Anya refuted with a wave of her hand. "Witches reign down their own vengeance, right, Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall's stern visage came as close to a smile as Harry had ever seen it. "Quite right, Anyanka." Her almost-smile settled into an unsettling smirk-like expression. "So, if you did not apparate in to give an over amorous teenage wizard boils in unmentionable places, then why. . . ."

"She mentioned an ex-fiancée," Harry interjected, not sure what had compelled him to speak. From the horrified look Ron was giving him Harry knew that his friend strongly suspected possession.

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall arched an eyebrow at the demon. Harry could have sworn he saw the woman . . . demon, blush at their questioning glances.

"I was mortal and stupid," Anya explained bluntly. "Neither are mistakes I will make again." Anyanka took a moment to center herself. "Right now I want to see my cowardly altar-dodging ex. What is Xander? I know he's here. He's easy to spot: Brown hair, flannel shirt, large upper arms. He's probably scampering after a red haired Wiccan who could possibly still be black-haired and veiny."

Harry's intense scrutiny of the unfolding Great Hall drama was interrupted when Ron nudged him in the ribs. "You think she's looking for that strange American bloke in the Hospital Wing?"

The woman's head snapped to the Gryffindor table. Her gaze lasered in on the red-haired boy. Ron obviously hadn't mastered the art of whispering.

"You!" Anya jabbed a finger toward Ron even as she strode rapidly toward him. "You know where to find Xander."

"Uh . . . yes?" Ron squeaked, terrified. The woman's face briefly flashed into something much less attractive and more demonic. Ron whimpered and wished for an invisibility cloak. After a few moments, he somehow found the courage to answer. "There was a strange American man in the Hospital Wing yesterday. As far as I know he's still there."

"Take me to him," Anya's demonic visage made a second appearance. "Now," she hissed.

Ron's gaze swung to Professor Dumbledore in horror. The old man's mild mannered smile offered no help or comfort whatsoever.

"Go ahead, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore encouraged the boy. "You and Harry please escort Miss Anyanka to the Hospital Wing. From there she should be able to locate Mr. Harris."

Harry and Ron scrambled from their places at the Gryffindor table and out of the Great Hall. They paused only briefly to ask the demon woman to please follow them. Anyanka did not seem perturbed that the boys kept their distance. The smile on her face showed she was quite amused by their terror.

After a quick wave goodbye to McGonagall and a nod to Dumbledore, Anyanka followed her reluctant guides out the door. The Great Hall was silent for a full five seconds after the main doors closed. Then a collective breath was expelled and everyone began speaking seemingly at once. Exclamations and wild rumors flew faster than Jelly Legs curses from one table to another and another. Upcoming end of term exams were forgotten in light of this new and exciting occurrence. It wasn't every day that Hogwarts was host to a demon!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

_In the Hospital Wing_

After several minutes, Draco had finally managed to calm himself and the shock that both Ginny and Hermione were feeling at seeing their Slytherin nemesis under such radical circumstances was fading. The two girls had settled in a couple of chairs that hugged the back wall of the room. The girls knew they needed to leave for classes soon, but for the moment their gazes were focused on Xander and Draco in quiet contemplation.

"This is not a scene I ever imagined I would see," Ginny whispered to her cohort. The redhead's tilted her head slightly. "You know," she commented, "from a certain angle the ferret's kind of cute cuddled up to Xander."

Hermione observed the two in silence for several moments. "It's the bed head," she finally decided. "Malfoy looks about six with his hair sticking up like that." Hermione looked over at Ginny and grinned. "A Galleon says our American friend's asleep right beside Draco in less than five minutes."

On the bed, Xander's head nodded toward his chest and his chin settled gently on top of Draco's head.

"I'm not taking that bet," Ginny refused. "Between his time awake in California and all the time he's spent awake here, Xander's fading fast."

Hermione giggled, though she was careful not to disturb the quiet that had settled over the room. "Yeah," she agreed, still speaking softly. "At this point it would take a bomb going off to keep him awake."

"ALEXANDER LAVELLE HARRIS!!" The Hospital Wing's enormous oak doors slammed into the stone walls with near to pulverizing force.

Xander's eyes flew open in alarm. He instinctively tightened his hold on the boy in his arms. "Anya?" Despite his shocked expression, the Sunnydale man's voice barely registered above a whisper. "What? How did you get here, Ahn?"

The woman, apparently called Anya, scowled fiercely as she walked closer. "Hello? Demon, remember?"

Xander winced, and then sighed. "Oh, yeah. So, what are you doing here? Come to take vengeance? If so, could we please move away from the minors beforehand? It will save on their future therapy bills."

"Vengeance?" Ginny questioned. She turned to the woman who had entered so forcefully. "Why in Merlin's name would you want to take vengeance on Xander?"

Anya opened her mouth to recount, in graphic detail, every transgression committed against her by her ex-fiancée but was stopped by an interrupted by said man.

"I made the dumbest decision of my life, Ginsy," he told the youngest Weasley bluntly. "And considering what I've done during my life, that's really saying something. I was scared, and monumentally stupid in how I handled that. Even if Anya here doesn't decide to curse me within an inch of death, I'll regret how I treated her for . . . well, for the rest of my life."

That answer brought Anya's tirade short. All this time she had been contemplating what curse would bring her ex the most suffering and she had forgotten a key fact about the man. No one was better at punishing Xander than himself. Between his deeply ingrained loyalty and self doubt, Xander would ravage his own psyche just as well as anything her active imagination could cook up.

She could tell just by looking at him that feelings of guilt and failure were clearly taking their toll. The dark circles under Xander's eyes made him appear bruised and he was far too pale. Surprisingly these observations did not bring with them a rush of happiness. Instead, an unwelcome tinge of concern lodged deep in her gut. Anya huffed mentally in frustration. Xander did not deserve her concern. Maybe she just felt . . . off because she hadn't inflicted the current damage. She decided to think about it later and instead focused back on Xander's earlier question.

"I'm here because Giles, Buffy, and Dawn persuaded me to make sure Willow had not vaporized you with her magic on Kingman's Bluff."

Ginny wasn't certain why this statement made Xander smile, but it did. "Was there ever any doubt," the man quipped.

"Yes," Anya answered without a trace of amusement. "None of them would shut up about it until I traced you here of all places. Let me guess, the guys in robes showed up and you tagged along for moral support?"

"Something like that," Xander confirmed. "You know I'd never let anything happen to one of my girls."

Anya nodded curtly at that. The fact that most of "Xander's girls" could break him in half without breaking a sweat never halted his protective instincts. The demon studied her former fiancée with narrowed eyes. Harry and Ron, who had up until that point been cowering . . . I mean hovering, in the doorway, took the opportunity to creep over to Hermione and Ginny.

"What's going on?" Hermione hissed as soon as the boys were in hearing range.

"She just bloody well appeared in the middle of breakfast demanding to be taken to this Xander bloke. She seemed ready to rip the guy limb from limb."

"She appeared?" Hermione queried.

"Apparated directly into the Great Hall," Harry elaborated. "Dumbledore called her Anyanka."

Hermione and Ginny both paled. "What would the Patron Saint of Scorned Women want with Xander?" Hermione gasped.

The brunette must have spoken louder than she intended because it was Anya who answered. "To marry the moron at one point." She snorted, "Boy was I stupid!"

Hermione gaped. What could she say to that? Ginny frowned as she saw the shamed expression on Xander's face. She knew there had to be more to this story. Xander himself had admitted to being in the wrong, but everything she had learned about the young man in the short time she'd known him told her that Xander would never do something that drastic without a reason. Would he?

Ginny's mental wanderings were brought back to the present by the realization that Anya was still studying Xander silently.

"What did Willow do to you?" Anya snapped her abrupt manner in full force.

Xander startled at sudden breach in the silence and had to blink a few times to bring the room back into focus. "What?" he asked distractedly.

"Willow would not have stopped because you asked her nicely. I felt her vengeance from across town." Anya's speech slowed to enunciate each word. "What. Did. She. Do. To. You?"

Xander's gaze dropped to the bed. "Nothing," he muttered.

"Right," the demon said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You are pale and mildly disoriented. And when was the last time you slept? I have seen livelier looking troll dung than you right now."

Apparently, whenever the vengeance demon wasn't hell bent on grinding the American man into dust, she did her best to mother hen him to death, Harry mused. Theirs was an odd relationship to say the least.

"She sliced up his chest pretty good," Ginny confessed to the woman.

Xander turned to Ginny. "Traitor." He glared at the younger girl mildly, but his tone lacked any real heat. At this point, Xander was just too tired to get angry.

"She grazed his cheek too," Ginny continued, completely unperturbed by Xander's censure. "Though that one seems to have faded. "

Anya's frown deepened as she looked at Xander in disappointment. "Well?"

Xander's cheeks blushed crimson. It only highlighted his overall pale pallor. "Willow threw some mojo that clawed me a little," he conceded. "There were a couple of random green blasts and some impact with a seriously messed up snake lady statue. Then Wills decided that ending the world wasn't the way to go. No biggie."

"No biggie?" Anya echoed in stunned disbelief. "No biggie!" A muscle in Anya's jaw twitched. The four Hogwarts students wondered what exactly the phrase meant.

Anya spun on her heels, turning to the room at large. "Where's the Mediwitch of this establishment?"

Madame Pomfrey appeared as if summoned by portkey. "Goodness me, what is everyone doing crowding my infirmary?"

"Making sure my former fiancée was not vaporized," Anya answered with a glare.

"We showed her the way here," Harry and Ron supplied.

Hermione and Ginny merely shrugged. They had been here first, after all.

Madame Pomfrey continued breezily as if she wasn't getting a death glare from a demon. "I couldn't help but overhear some of your conversation. I thought this might help you sleep, dear." She handed Xander a mug.

Xander took the mug warily, sniffed it with trepidation, and caught a familiar aroma. "Hot chocolate?" he asked in disbelief.

"Hot chocolate," the Mediwitch confirmed. "It's good for what ails you. Now drink up while I check on young Mister Malfoy."

Xander started to move from his place on the bed. Madame Pomfrey stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No, no, young man. You stay right there. I don't want to do anything to disturb the poor boy at the moment. He's resting comfortably just where he is."

Xander gauged the mediwitch's sincerity for a moment, and then acquiesced without further protest. He sat back on the bed and took a gulp of chocolately goodness. This was one wizardy remedy that he could get behind.

Madame Pomfrey forwent the use of her wand and placed the back of her hand against Draco's forehead and cheek. Her eyes brightened and a small smile came to her face. "Fever's finally down, thank goodness. I was afraid I was going to have to switch to some of my more drastic potions."

The mediwitch drew her wand and did some complicated swishing and flicking over Malfoy's sleeping form. Xander finished his drink as he watched her work and unsuccessfully held back a yawn. Madame Pomfrey's smile fell slightly, but the expression that replaced it was more confused than concerned.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, curious despite herself.

"One of many things I monitor with you children when you are ill is your magical signature. A young person's magical signature will fluctuate some as you grow and can be affected by some illnesses. And every wizard's signature is unique."

"Like a fingerprint?" Hermione asked for clarification.

"Quite right," Madame Pomfrey praised. "Examining your magical signature can tell me many things about a student's physical and mental wellbeing." Madame Pomfrey's expression became perplexed. "Now while I'm fairly certain that Mr. Malfoy's fever has run its course, his magical signature is fluctuating wildly."

Madame Pomfrey paused in her explanation to deftly grab the hot chocolate mug from Xander's lax fingers.

"Hot chocolate, huh?" Ginny asked with a smirk.

"Why yes," Madame Pomfrey stated, "with a touch of sleeping draught."

"You drugged him?" Harry asked in disbelief. He'd never thought Madame Pomfrey had the ability to be devious.

"I only slipped in a fourth of a dose. The fact it contained warm milk probably had more to do with him falling asleep than the mild potion I mixed into it." The mediwitch sat the mug on the small table beside the bed then treated Xander to the same temperature check as Draco. After a moment of feeling his forehead, she nodded in satisfaction and pulled the bed covers up around the American's shoulders.

Madame Pomfrey then turned back to Anya. "Is there anything I should know about Mr. Harris before I finish patching him up, young lady?"

"Just be cautious," Anya informed her. "For some reason, magic never acts predictably around him. The demon scowled. "Not that I would care if Xander suffered through an agonizing death. I just don't want to have to tell the Slayer what happened."

"The Slayer's a myth," Hermione scoffed, but then cringed when she realized who, or rather, what she had just gotten snooty with.

"Yeah, so said Gilderoy Lockhart," Ron contradicted. "And of course you should believe everything that git wrote."

"I'll be sure to tell the Slayer she's not real the next time I see her," Anya told the younger girl patronizingly. "I'm sure her sister will get a real kick out of hearing that."

"And I think it's about time for certain students to get to class," Madame Pomfrey interrupted. "Your end of term examinations will not take themselves, children."

"I think that's our cue to leave," Ginny joked with another grin.

The four friends made their way out of the Hospital Wing after a quick farewell to the Mediwitch and a nervous glance toward the vengeance demon. Ginny managed to give the woman a small wave and a quick bye before catching up with the Golden Trio. The youngest member of the small group found it hard to leave the bedside she'd spent so much time beside. And surprisingly, not just because of her new American friend residing in it.

"What were you and Hermione doing here, anyway?" Ron asked as the four approached the Hospital Wings massive oak doors.

"Being told bedtime stories," Ginny answered glibly.

"Bedtime stories?!" Ginny was surprised Ron's shriek failed to burst her eardrums.

"Yes, and they were brilliant!" the girl continued enthusiastically. "All the stories centered around this British librarian. . . ."

Madame Pomfrey shook her head as she watched the four Gryffindors leave. Then she turned back to her other visitor. "So I assume you would like an update on your other friend as well?"

"Not particularly," Anya sniffed. "She did try to kill me, stole all the dark magic out of my spell book inventory, and totally destroyed a centrally located and very profitable Magic Shop of which I held partial ownership." The demon paused after the short rant, then sighed. "But I do have others to report back to who would want to know about her. So, give me the basics."

_TBC. . . I promise!_

_Next Chapter: Draco comes back to his sense (what he has anyway), and there's a fight between Professor Snape and. . . . Madame Pomfrey?? _


	9. Chapter 9: Explanations

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: Teen. If you can watch the show and read the books, then you'll be okay reading this story.

A/N: I love snow days! Once the end of the school year approaches, I'll be complaining about the extra time everyone has to stay, but right now this day's been awesome. I hope that wherever you may be that you are having as good a time as I am. On that note, enjoy the new chapter.

--

Draco trudged his way back toward the Slytherin common room. Not exactly on the top of his list of places to visit at the moment, but navigating the room was necessary in order to reach his bed: a place Draco craved with an intensity that increased with each step. His head pounded, his joints ached, at this point even Draco's hair hurt. When Draco finally made it to his bedroom, he was going to whisper sweet nothings into his pillow.

The blond young man knew he was shuffling about like an old man, but no one was roaming the halls to see him, so Draco made no move to speed up or straighten his posture. He brushed his lank hair off of his forehead only for the strands to fall back into his eyes. Draco's face started to cloud over in annoyance, but he was too tired for his expression to reach irritated.

The hallway continued seemingly forever, getting darker with each step. Draco slowed almost without thought. Why was the hallway getting darker? It couldn't be later than mid-afternoon. Why _hadn't_ he run into other Hogwarts students?

Draco's thoughts were derailed once again by the sound of footfalls. Heavy footsteps echoed from somewhere ahead of him. The boy slowed even further and moved to the side until his back hugged the far wall. The footsteps were getting closer. As Draco crepted forward, he began to hear harsh breathing overtop of the sound of footfalls. The combination was not at all reassuring.

Why was Draco still walking toward the mysterious noises? _It's time to turn back. _Draco decided mentally. His brain may have been thinking retreat, but his legs continued their forward momentum. _Turning back would be good right about now._ Yet, his feet continued to tread down the hallway.

_"You've put me in a precarious position."_ A voice carried from somewhere in the darkness in front of Draco.

The hairs on the back of Draco's stood on end. The voice continued in a tone that would be soothing if it wasn't so cold.

"_Events have been put into motion that cannot be undone. You can't stop what's happening. They are strong and you, you are weak and powerless. Trying to interfere will do nothing but incur their wrath."_

Draco's legs were shaking; his body was pressed almost painfully into the wall. He wanted to turn tail and flee with every fiber of his being. But _something_ pulled him toward the voice.

"_Of all times!" _the voice shouted. The coldness disappeared, irritation now in its place. To Draco it seemed that he was standing right beside the speaker, but he saw nothing. Nothing but darkness surrounded him.

"_Your entire life you stumble about never raising above mediocrity. Seeking recognition for praise unearned, subsisting as a sycophantic, spoiled child. And now it is over . . . now I see your true colors."_

Strong hands grabbed Draco by the shirt and pushed him into the wall at his back. Draco's feet dangled just off the ground. A dark hooded man held him to the wall. Draco could see nothing of his features, but it wasn't needed. He would always recognize that voice.

"_I will not abide such weakness!" _No more words then, only pain.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The sounds of screaming followed Draco back into consciousness. It took a few seconds to realize the screams were from his dreams and not echoing from down the hallway. Draco blinked a few times before the room came into focus.

He was still in the Hospital Wing. But it seemed as if everyone else had been sent back to their respective houses. The Hospital Wing itself seemed quiet and peaceful. The calm was peaceful after hours of chaotic, half-remembered fever dreams. For the first time in what felt like weeks, Draco felt truly awake and not seconds from falling back into his nightmarish hallucinations.

But even with his newfound alertness it still took Draco a full thirty seconds to realize he was lying half on top of the American stranger, Xander. Draco vaguely remembered meeting the man, speaking with him, and . . . . Bloody hell, did he sob and cling to this bloke like a small child? And were Granger and the Weasley girl here to witness it? Draco's face flushed in mortification. To the teenager, nothing much seemed worse than appearing vulnerable in front of Gryffindors.

Draco's recollection of the last day and a half was spotty at best, but he remembered seeing Weasley and also at times Granger a couple of times. What had the two girls seen and what would it take to keep them quiet?

With a yawn, Draco decided the matter of the two Gryffindor girls could be reexamined when he didn't feel like he had come out on the wrong end of a brawl with a group of centaurs. Instead, Draco turned his attention to his . . . bedmate.

Draco blushed again as the description played in his head. He'd practically taken the American hostage during his stay in the Hospital Wing. And amazingly enough Xander had let Draco cling to him. _That's what friends are for_ the man had told him. Crabbe and Goyle certainly identified themselves as Draco's friends, but neither of them had even bothered to visit him while he was ill. But, this American who he had just met, stayed at his bedside. This was the first time Draco had woken up without the man immediately cracking jokes and asking about his welfare. Xander hadn't even stirred since Draco had woke, his only movement the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"Are you finally fully back with us, Draco?"

The blonde startled at the statement. For an older lady, Madame Pomfrey moved with stealth. The mediwitch stood by the bed looking Draco over with a hopeful smile.

"I believe so," Draco rasped. Madame Pomfrey's smile grew wider at his coherent answer. The young Slytherin was shocked to see nothing but sincerity in the woman's expression. The mediwitch was genuinely glad to see him awake and alert. Draco didn't know quite how to react to that fact. So Draco decided a redirection was in order.

"Is Xander all right?" he asked tentatively. The man had been a friend when he needed one desperately and Draco was unnerved by his stillness.

Madame Pomfrey let herself be redirected. "The young man will be fine, dear. The poor boy's just exhausted. He only just fell asleep a couple of hours ago."

Draco's teenaged ego began to reassert itself and he shifted uncomfortably. "I should move so Xander can rest easier."

He started to push himself into a seated position. Before he had moved more than a couple of inches Draco's head was spinning so badly that the room fell completely out of focus. A sharp pain drilled into his temple and his vision dimmed alarmingly. Draco fell back against his pillow with an involuntary gasp as the world faded.

He wasn't certain how long it took for him to regain his senses. It took long enough that Draco could hear a low note of concern in Madame Pomfrey's voice.

"Draco? Draco, dear, are you all right? Can you hear me? Draco?"

It sounded like the woman's voice was traveling from the end of a long tunnel. Draco focused on mediwich's voice and used it to bring himself fully back to awareness. When he blinked open his eyes Madame Pomfrey was talking softly to him and stroking his cheek. He also noticed he had been moved to his own bed.

"Don't move much if you can help it, dear," Madame Pomfrey stated quietly once he met her worried gaze. "Your body burned up very nearly every iota of energy it had," she informed him. "It will take some time for your body to recover and build its strength back. You won't be up to much more than a quick jaunt to the loo for a couple of days yet."

Draco frowned. More days stuck in this bed did not sound appealing. "What am I going to do about my finals?" His father would be beyond livid if this incident caused him to fail his fourth year.

Madame Pomfrey paused as if weighing her words. "After you are up and around again, we'll address the matter of your magical signature."

A cold chill shot to the pit of Draco's stomach. "Wait," Draco started to try to sit up further, but rethought his action. At the moment, if he lay totally still he felt almost normal. "What's wrong with my magic?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "I should not have mentioned anything. I want to wait for your father to arrive before discussing this with you."

One look at Draco's face told the mediwitch she was not going to be able to wait before offering Draco an explanation. She took a deep breath. "I am still uncertain what illness you contracted, but it has caused your magical signature havoc. While you were ill, you saw things, yes?"

Draco flashed back to the shadowy figured circling the dark corners and his housemates and shuddered. "Yes," he managed to whisper.

Madame Pomfrey knew that Draco was doing everything possible to keep up a cool, detached façade. But one look at his face as he remembered his nightmares really made her want to give the boy a comforting hug. But the boy was strung as tight as a bow where he huddled on the bed so she held back the urge. And it wasn't as if the news was going to get any better.

"Those hallucinations were powered by your magical signature. You've become open to divination. The magic that you normally used to cast spells was now giving you . . . visions for lack of a better term." The older woman sat on the edge of Draco's bed. "Most episodes of divination last at most a few minutes. Sometimes the person recalls nothing of what they saw during that time. Others recall every detail."

The mediwitch had a sneaking suspicion of which category the Malfoy heir fit into from his actions of the last couple of days. The haunted look in the boy's eyes only confirmed her theory, poor boy. "Either way, the witch or wizard uses large quantities of their magical energy during this time." The woman studied Draco for several moments. "Whatever it was you were seeing, Draco, your episode lasted over a day. The magical drain very nearly killed you. The visions have stopped at this point, but you have next to no magical energy left."

Draco's heart plummeted into his stomach. "What are you saying, Madame Pomfrey?"

"I'm saying that at this moment you probably couldn't get a spark from your wand without passing out," she sighed. "And as far as I can tell, your divination ability is permanent. You will always be susceptible to them."

Draco paled even further. "But it will get better, won't it? You can build magical energy back up. I'll be able to cast again once my energy's back up, right?"

Madame Pomfrey gave in to her need to offer support. She laid a comforting hand on the boy's arm. "I don't know for certain, dear," she told him honestly. Her hand stayed in contact with Draco's arm and gave a gentle squeeze. "You could recover every bit of the energy used in time and continue relatively normally."

"Or this nightmare could start all over again as soon as I get back enough strength for the vision to not kill me," Draco countered despairingly. "I could see things that aren't really there until it drives me completely around the bend. I've got the Curse."

"The Sight is not a curse," Madame Pomfrey argued. "It is a rare gift." She paused and waited for Draco to meet her gaze. She caught a glimpse of sorrowful gray orbs and continued. "This _will_ change the way you see the world, Mr. Malfoy. But you will adapt. I expect nothing less of as fine an example of Slytherin as you."

In another moment of weakness, the mediwitch smoothed Draco's hair, pushing a few errant strands away from his forehead. The fact that the boy put up no protest against her actions showed her exactly how upset he was with current events. "Don't give up on yourself before we know more, dear. There's still a chance – "

"Have you ever known anyone who's recovered their full abilities after something like this?"

Madame Pomfrey's hesitation at the question was more than answer enough for Draco. "Oh," he murmured. Draco's gaze fell to the edge of the bed. "Could you leave me alone for a little while, Madame Pomfrey?" he asked softly, his eyes still lowered. "Please?"

The mediwitch's heart broke a little at the defeat coloring the young man's voice. She brushed his hair back one last time and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "All right, dear. You let me know if you need anything. I'll check on you in a while."

"Thank you," Draco whispered his voice filled with suppressed emotion.

Madame Pomfrey left his bedside reluctantly, but stayed close enough to keep a covert eye on the young Slytherin. It didn't take long for Draco's emotions to overtake him. She observed helplessly as Draco's shoulders shook with near silent sobs. The outpouring thankfully did not last long. Draco's still recovering body was so exhausted he cried himself into a restless sleep after only a few minutes. Hopefully when he woke up things would look better for the young man.

She met Severus Snape at the doorway to her office. The woman took one look at the scowl on the Potion Master's face and sighed. "How much of that conversation did you overhear?"

"Enough," Snape answered. "And the boy showed so much potential."

Madame Pomfrey whirled around to face the Slytherin Head of House. "Don't you dare give up on that boy, Severus!" she hissed.

Snape was taken aback by the vehemence in the normally even-tempered woman. That did not mean he backed down from her. "You know the facts as well as I do, Poppy. There was no need to lie to Draco about it."

"I didn't lie to him," Pomfrey defended. "He has a chance of recovering his spell casting ability."

"Come now, Poppy," Snape practically spat. "The development of significant Divination aptitude in a wizard is magically catastrophic. For Hell's sake, Trelawney's only had a few authentic visions in her life and she can barely cast Wingardium Leviosa. What makes you think that Mr. Malfoy's case will be any different?"

"Because he's still alive!" Pomfrey exclaimed. "Whatever it was young Mister Malfoy was seeing, he was trapped in its clutches almost constantly for over a day in the Hospital Wing. And there is no way to know exactly how long the visions were affecting him before you brought him here. By all rights he should be dead. Most wizards would have succumbed after less than twelve hours. Their store of magical energy just cannot take the drain."

It took Snape a minute to get over the shock of that statement. He had known Draco was ill but the mention that he could have died stopped him cold. "Then why is Mr. Malfoy still with us?" he finally managed to bite out.

"You are aware that I was given this position at Hogwarts in part because of my own unique gifts. I've been taking care of the children of Hogwarts for decades, examining their magical signatures, and gauging their potential. If Lucius Malfoy wanted evidence for his illogical arguments of pureblood superiority, he needs to look no further than his own son. Draco Malfoy's magical signature is like nothing I've ever seen. The spells he performs here at school, they barely scratch the surface of what he could accomplish. From what I can see in Draco, if he put his heart into it, there would be very little the boy _couldn't_ do."

Snape studied the sleeping member of his house in blatant surprise. As far as the Potions Master had been able to discern Draco Malfoy was exceptional only in his own mind. His school work certainly didn't reflect anything more than that. While Snape would admit Draco showed glimpses of above average intelligence beneath the teenaged hormones, the boy seemed more lightly to jump blindly into a confrontation than use his brain. But Snape had never seen Draco perform any exceptional magic.

"While Mr. Malfoy is far from inept, I somehow doubt he is as unique as you are suggesting."

"Just because young Mister Malfoy has yet to live up to his potential does not mean the potential isn't there. In fact, I have only seen one other student at Hogwarts with a magical signature remotely comparable to his."

Snape sneered. "Let me guess," he practically growled. "Young Mister Potter?"

Madame Pomfrey smiled in amusement. "Oh, no. Mister Potter, while no slouch, isn't even the strongest among his group of friends."

Snape frowned. "It wasn't _Lucius_?" he asked incredulously.

Madame Pomfrey actually snorted. "Hardly! The boy may be the spitting image of his father, but when it comes to magic, Draco takes after his mother's side of the family."

"You don't mean . . . ."

"Narcissa may not be the best example, but her line is referred to as the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black for a reason," Madame Pomfrey cocked an eyebrow at the Potions Master. "Or are you aware of a multitude of wizards who can wandlessly take their illegal Animagus form after thirteen years of mental torture in Azkaban?"

Snape scowled at the mediwitch, but admitted to himself that he really could not argue with her on that point. Every wizard _knew _escape from Azkaban was impossible until the day Sirius Black disappeared without a trace. But all that was beside the point. While exceedingly rare, there were documented cases of witches and wizards developing the power to have visions. It was one of the possible consequences of extensive use of Occulmency so Snape had studied the phenomena thoroughly.

From what he had researched, Draco's best possible future was an extended stay in St. Mungo's Ward for the Mentally Unhinged. But a part of the Potions Master wanted to believe Madame Pomfrey. He wanted to have faith that somehow, Malfoy could come through this newest development in his life unscathed. However, Snape hadn't believed in optimism in decades. For now, Snape instead decided to switch topics. "When are young Mr. Malfoy's parents arriving?"

"When I spoke with the family solicitor late this morning," The scowl decorating Madame Pomfrey's face told Snape that she did not approve of being handed off to a representative when a child was critically ill. "He assured me that Lucius had been made aware of the situation and would arrive tomorrow morning to insure that his son is receiving the proper care." The mediwitch practically growled. "As if I would neglect a child in need. I'm not the one that heard my only child had nearly died and said, "Oh, I'll drop by tomorrow." And that was _after_ I had tried for nearly a day to contact him!"

Snape secretly hoped that Lucius tried to insinuate evidence of shortcomings on Madame Pomfrey's part when he arrived. He was certain when the mediwitch was finished with him they would never find enough of his body for positive identification. The only more interesting prospect Snape could fathom was how the Malfoy family patriarch and Draco's newest American protector would react to one another. And speaking of Americans . . . .

"How is your other patient doing?" he asked.

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "Physically she's perfectly healthy. She's not even magically drained since she pulled so much energy from the outside environment. Mentally is another matter entirely. The girl has retreated into herself. She sleeps most of the time and when she is awake she doesn't react to anyone."

"Is her mind broken?" Snape inquired with a touch of regret.

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips in thought. "I do not believe so. By all accounts she's voluntarily shutting out the rest of the world. Once Xander wakes I am going to see if he can get her to reengage with reality. But other than that there is really not much I can do to help the girl. It's up to her.

Snape sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. Personally, the destructive power of this American girl sent a shiver down his spine but he wasn't totally immune to sympathy. "I'll look through my books and see if there are any potions that might aid you."

"I appreciated it, Severus. I'll keep you updated on Draco's condition and let you know when his father arrives."

After a short farewell, Snape left to look through his potions archives and let Madame Pomfrey do what she did best.

--

_Man, that was a long one! Next chapter: Willow gets some screen time, I promise._


	10. Chapter 10: Visiting Willow

Title: Reflections of You

Author: Drake Roberts

Rating: Teen. If you can watch the show and read the books, then you'll be okay reading this story.

Warnings: mild violence, some cursing, off-tilter thinking, and other maladies associated with my writing style. Seriously, if you're at this point in the story, you shouldn't be too shocked by anything you read in here.

A/N: I'll admit I am kind of (really) nervous about this part. I'm hoping the vibe I wanted gets across. So, please tell me what you think if you have the time, good, bad, or ugly. But not personally insulting, please. I don't belittle you, after all.

* * *

When Willow was a child, she had never felt better than when she was around Xander. As quick-witted as she was, Willow's social skills had always lagged behind her intellectual development. She was painfully shy. Then one day, the shy redhead was bombarded by Xander Harris. The shaggy-haired, strangely dressed boy was clumsy, goofy, and totally irrepressible. It seemed every step Xander took was wrong-footed, but he always picked himself up with a laugh and a smile. And the boy's good cheer was contagious; Willow was almost instantly enchanted.

The redhead rarely strayed more than a few feet from her new partner in life at school and up until puberty Xander ate dinner at Willow's house more often than at his own. She was convinced that if Xander had been Jewish her father would have found a way to have her betrothed to the boy. When Willow was with Xander, she knew that everything would work out somehow. Xander's presence made things better. He was her comfort and her support system at a time when she didn't have another friend in the world.

Willow knew that when Xander made a friend, he made one for life. He had proved it to her two days ago. She had wanted to commit planet-wide genocide and Xander had told he just wanted to hang. And now even though the witch had no clue where she had been taken, she knew Xander was still trying to support her. She could feel him before he opened the door. Willow did not have to move her gaze from the stone floor to know her best friend was standing in the middle of the room, directly in front of where she sat on the bed. Willow expected nothing less; Xander was hard-wired to give comfort.

But Willow didn't want comfort. She didn't want her Xander-shaped friend to make everything better again. Xander came up beside the bed Willow was sitting on, but she didn't acknowledge him. If she looked at her oldest friend and saw his energy, the emotional warmth that Xander spread to everyone around him, Willow would not be able to resist it. She would rip that fire from his body.

Willow remembered what it felt like to hold the Earth's fate in her hands. She recalled it vividly. The craving for destruction had thrummed through her veins with her heartbeat. Xander had stood in front of her waiting for her to kill him, expecting it even. He hadn't made a single attempt to stop her from doing it. Staring her best friend in the face, Willow didn't see anger or fear, just love and grief.

In that moment, Willow had remembered that Tara, her baby, who was intimidated by almost every man she'd ever met had called Xander a sweetie. The world _needed_ to suffer for taking her lover from her. But Xander didn't deserve to die. Not when he could get a woman victimized by nearly every male in her life to defend him when Willow thought he was being mean. Not when Xander put being her friend ahead of the world. Tara wouldn't have wanted it to end that way.

It was a fact: Xander was and would always be Willow's friend. But if he stayed around her, Willow might hurt him anyway.

"Hey, Wills," Xander started quietly.

"I don't want to see you." Her voice was low and husky, exactly what you would expect from someone who had cried for hours, then not spoken for over a day.

If Xander was surprised at being spoken to, it didn't show in his voice. "Oh, come on. After I travelled all this way to see you? You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

Xander was silent for a few seconds. He fidgeted, but would not be dissuaded. "Don't you even want to know what I've been up to while you've been in here? I've met the British male version of Cordelia and turned Giles into a mythical Hellmouth warrior."

"Leave. Now. Before I throw you out."

Willow looked up at Xander's face as she said this and saw the hurt flood it. She wanted to deny the happy thrill she got from his pain, but she was too busy savoring the brief burn it sent through her insides. It skittered over her shoulders and sent a tingle down her spine, just a sweet tease of the power she held before.

Willow had decided not to destroy the world, but people changed their minds all the time.

Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Xander wasn't sure what to do. He had felt a cold rush of foreboding at Willow's words. Normally he would follow his instincts and get far away, but this was his best friend, the girl who knew him better than anyone. The last thing he wanted to do was turn his back on her.

"Wills, I – "

His sentence was cut off as his back forcefully met the far wall. He impacted hard enough to knock the nearest portrait to the ground. The Countess in the painting squeaked in terror and disappeared from the frame. The air rushed from his lungs and his knees buckled as he struggled to take a breath. He would have fallen to the floor if it not for Willow's magic pinning him to the wall.

Xander tried to wait for the muscles in his chest to unclench so his lungs could expand. Thanks to a life filled with clumsiness and bullies this wasn't the first time he'd had the breath knocked out of him. But the pressure against his chest only tightened. Air that would normally fill his lungs and give him the oxygen he needed to survive instead held his body six inches off the floor. The uneven edges in the stone wall dug into his back.

Xander's eyes widened. His lungs began to protest. He looked at Willow in shock. Her hair remained bright scarlet, her eyes a gimlet green. No world ending energy sparked at her fingertips. Willow took a couple of steps toward him. She cocked her head to the side slightly, examining Xander like an insect as he twitched against the wall. Her lips twisted into a tiny smile. It wasn't a nice smile.

Xander's heartrate quadrupled and black spots filled his vision. The air pressed against his chest like an anvil. What little air remained in Xander's lungs exited in a strangled wheeze and his head lolled until his chin touched his chest.

_BANG!_

If he'd had the strength, Xander would have looked up at the unexpected sound. He was too focused on suffocating to death.

_Validus Contego!_

The pressure against Xander's chest let up as abruptly as it had appeared. He collapsed to the floor gasping, his only thoughts those of getting air _now_. After a few moments, Xander's vision began to clear and his limbs steadied though he did not feel secure enough to move from his position huddled on the ground. Looking toward the door, Xander saw the stern, black-robed wizard, Snape, lowering his wand.

Xander's gaze moved to his best friend. A blue dome now encircled the petite redhead. At some point Willow had sat back on her bed. Almost as if she felt her friend's gaze, Willow looked up and met Xander's eyes. Her gaze was assessing and her smile was still in place.

Xander met Willow's stare in utter shock. The tears that streamed down his face weren't entirely from his wracking cough as he regained his breath.

Willow gaped at her friend in wonder. She could see energy radiating from him. Xander had always been unmistakable to her senses, but something had changed since Kingman's Bluff. The feelings she got from Xander were stronger, much stronger. Her blood practically sang just from being in the same room as her best friend.

"Xander," she gasped softly. "You're so warm."

Xander's whole body shuddered.

Hands under Xander's arms hauled the young man to his feet. "You need to leave the room, boy," the sour-faced man spoke softly.

Xander, still catching his breath, put up no resistance as Snape practically dragged him from the room. Madame Pomfrey entered the room as the two men exited and closed the door firmly behind her.

Once Snape was sure the boy could stand on his own two feet, he removed his hands from the young man's arms. Xander, his breathing now regular if not calm, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Snape could see the young man trembling from the recent flood of adrenaline, but Xander was doing his best to compose himself. The Potions Master had to resist the urge to slump against the wall himself.

Something horrible could have just happened. When he had entered the room their supposed catatonic patient was very much aware and her best friend was half strangled. Snape still had his misgivings about the young American man, but when he had seen Xander's frightened eyes, he had acted instinctively. Because despite Xander's confrontational stance when Snape had first encountered him in Sunnydale, the young man was just that: young.

"Are you all right?" the Potions Master asked after giving Xander a minute to pull himself together.

Xander raised a trembling hand and pushed it through his hair. "I – um," Xander sniffed and self-consciously wiped the drying tears off his face. "Yeah, I'm good."

Snape raised an eyebrow and studied the young man for a moment. "I think that _good_ would be an exaggeration," he observed.

Xander let out another shaky breath. "Well, I'm not dying so I count that as a definite improvement from two minutes ago." The boy offered the wizard a weak grin. "Thanks for that, by the way."

The Californian held Snape's gaze for a moment longer, his eyes wide and haunted. "I'll be fine," he told Snape truthfully.

Xander looked toward the door that now separated him from his best friend. He hadn't lied to the Englishman. He would be fine. Just as soon as he dealt with the fact that for the first time in his life Xander had not been afraid for Willow, he'd been afraid _of _her.

* * *

_I was going to add more, but this seemed like a logical stopping point. _

_In the next chapter: Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny chat and you'll get some more Xander and Draco banter._


	11. Chapter 11: Gossip and Mother Hens

Title: Reflections of You

Rating: Teen (a little rougher than the Harry Potter books, but not any worse than the Buffy TV show)

Warnings: mild violence, the occasional curse word, bad grammar, infrequent updates

Author's Note: Merry Christmas everyone! Or whatever winter holiday or holidays you happen to celebrate. Hopefully there are still a couple of people reading this. Not too much to this chapter. Don't worry. I'll try to get the action to pick up soon. I tried something a little different with the flow of the conversation with Draco and Xander. Let me know if you like it or if it is confusing. Also, I'm from Kentucky, not England, so if I use a southern phrase instead of a British one, I apologize.

* * *

Between the hectic morning and a day filled with end of term examinations, Ginny hadn't eaten a morsel. By the time she made it to the Great Hall for dinner, she would have braved a score of Death Eaters for some pot roast. She sat down at the Gryffindor table and immediately began piling her plate high with roast, potatoes and carrots and topped it with a couple of dinner rolls.

Nothing was going to stop her from eating at least half her weight in potatoes and gravy. Nothing. Especially not her brother and his friends trying to stare a hole through her head. Didn't they realize that a growing girl needed sustenance? Not everyone got their nutrition through old tomes like Hermione or rocked the starving waif look like Harry.

Ginny tried her very best to concentrate on moving the food from her plate to her stomach, but she was pretty sure that if Ron didn't stop glaring at the side of her head her ear was going to catch fire.

"What!" Ginny exclaimed.

Ron was startled so badly he nearly toppled off the bench seat. Harry and Hermione jumped in surprise at Ginny's abrupt outburst, but managed to keep their seats. Neville looked like he wanted to laugh more than anything. He kept his amusement in check only because he was too nice to embarrass Ron like that. But other than a handful of blank stares, no one said a word and Ginny started to fume.

"If you've got something you need to say to me, Ron, you have to actually speak. I _may_ have accidentally blown out a window, but the last time I checked I wasn't a mind reader."

Ron looked contrite. "Sorry, Ginny. You've just been acting barmy lately."

Ginny's eyes narrowed.

Harry socked his red-haired friend in the shoulder none too gently. "Honestly, Ron. The goal is to _not _get her so angry she liquefies your entrails!"

A subject change was definitely in order. Harry turned to Ginny. "Have you heard anything about what is wrong with Malfoy?"

"Did he finally smart off to the wrong wizard and get hexed?" one of the Gryffindors toward the other end of the table asked. The boy laughed at his own theory. "Hey, maybe he bedded Bulstrode and got a disease!"

Hermione's face screwed up in disgust. "Ew. I could have lived my whole life without that image."

"Is it The Curse?" Ron blurted out, finally saying something that didn't result in him sticking his foot in his mouth. "He's got the Malfoy Family Curse, doesn't he?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It's not like Madame Pomfrey shouts diagnoses down the hallway. She certainly hasn't shared anything with me."

"But from what we witnessed in the Hospital Wing, something is going on," Hermione continued. "Malfoy is seeing something. Whether he's gone insane or if his fever is making him hallucinate is up for debate."

"What if he's _not_ crazy?" Neville interjected.

"What are you on about, Nev?" Ron asked.

"What if Malfoy's having visions?" Neville pressed. "Maybe the hallucinations he's seeing . . . experiencing . . . are him seeing something bad in the future."

"That's total bollocks!" Ron snorted in disbelief. "Malfoy seeing the future. . . ."

Hermione also frowned in disbelief, but at least she was nicer when she said, "Neville, I highly doubt that Draco Malfoy is suddenly being shown the future in his dreams. You took Trelawney same as I did and saw what a joke our Divination class turned out to be. It's just a fever."

"Trelawney may be a quack, but Divination wouldn't be taught at Hogwarts if it was all a fraud, Hermione," Neville countered. Hermione may have read three-fourths of the school's library at this point, but Neville had grown up in the Magical world and knew that not everything could be explained in a logical manner.

Ron scowled. "Oh, lay off, Neville. People don't just randomly have visions!"

"Harry does!" Ginny retorted.

"Harry's different!"

"Thanks a lot, Ron," Harry grumbled. The Boy-Who-Lived had decided to stay out of this conversation. Whatever was going on with Malfoy, there was nothing that any of them could do at the moment. Harry figured he would concentrate on finishing breakfast. He'd worry about whatever was going on with his school rival later.

* * *

"So what's the what with Creepy Dude?"

Draco Malfoy was supposed to be asleep. True, it was just past dinnertime and the sun had barely sunk to below the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. Draco still looked haggard to Xander, but the fever seemed to have relinquished its hold on him. Still, Madame Pomfrey insisted that the Slytherin needed rest to recover.

"Creepy Dude?" Draco repeated dubiously. He frowned for a moment in concentration. "I'm going to assume you mean Professor Snape, as I don't believe you've met Filch."

Madame Pomfrey, once she'd returned from the back room Willow occupied, had also insisted that Xander needed some time away from the Hospital Wing for food and rest before he became her next patient.

"Yeah, that guy. Wears a constant scowl, has some kind of dark cloak fetish that I refuse to think too deeply about, but overall not as psycho as he first appears."

Draco cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? How did you come to this conclusion?"

Xander had been reluctant to leave the boy's side, but had finally been practically dragged from the room by Professor Snape. The dour professor had pulled him through the castle's corridors in a winding path that quickly had the American thoroughly lost. Xander had found himself silently praying that this wizard wasn't leading him to an early demise. The glowering, scowling, and caustic muttering did not give Xander much hope. The greasy hair didn't improve the man's image either.

"Oh, no reason," Xander tried to evade.

Draco snorted. "Half the first years believe Professor Snape hides the bodies of curfew breakers in his potions supply closet. The other half believes he has special cages hanging in his room."

Over the next few hours, Xander had been fed, taken to a bathroom where he had taken one of the coolest bubble baths ever, and been dragged to a dungeon where instead of being of being tortured, his creepy escort had used his wand to transform a stuffed chair into a sinfully comfortable-looking bed. The still evil-looking professor had then proceeded to order Xander in the transfigured bed for a nap. A nap! And Xander had reacted to the authoritative voice before he knew what was happening. Who knew that dour, creepy, evil-looking teachers could be such mother hens?

Draco continued to watch Xander in blatant interest. The weird boy barely seemed to blink. Xander finally crumpled under the pressure. "He made me take a nap," the American mumbled.

The blonde boy blinked in surprise. "He made you . . ." Draco's lips twitched. "Snape put you down for a nap?" A snicker escaped.

Xander scowled at his newest friend. "You make it sound like he gave me a teddy bear and tucked me in."

The mental image from that sentence was Draco's undoing. He howled with laughter. "Aah," he choked out. "You're pouting." Draco pressed a hand to his stomach. "Did you not get a bedtime story?"

"I hate you," Xander stated.

Draco curled up on his side and gasped for air between shrieks of laughter. He watched as Xander fought to keep his scowl firmly planted. The man's eyes betrayed his mirth. But it took a few more seconds for the scowl to disappear.

Xander gave an exaggerated pout. "Professor Snape was a big meanie. He wouldn't let me braid his hair!"

Everyone told him it was impossible to die of laughter, but Draco gave it a good try. It took the boy five minutes to get back under control. The Slytherin finally leaned back against the bed's headboard tiredly, but Xander thought Draco looked the healthiest he'd seen since arriving at Hogwarts.

It had galled for the older man to basically send him to bed, but Xander couldn't argue that he'd felt much less like a zombie when he woke back up hours later. He'd been alone when he woke, but Snape reentered the room before Xander had time to do more than stretch and blink in confusion a couple of times. The man's gaze was no less menacing, but Snape had led him back to the infirmary without a word. When they finally got to the Hospital Wing, Draco was sitting curled into a tiny ball in the middle of the bed. Xander had a moment of trepidation at the sight but when Draco heard Xander's approach, the boy looked up with clear eyes.

Draco let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. He stayed curled up, but released the white-knuckled grip from his knees. Still, Xander didn't like how quiet Draco was being. The young man had been unconscious or delirious for much of the time Xander had known him, but when Draco had been lucid, the kid hadn't struck him as shy or unassuming.

The laughing boy Xander had seen a moment ago was much better. Though from the curious and concerned gazes he kept catching Madame Pomfrey sending Draco's way, Xander thought maybe a laughing Draco wasn't quite normal either. Oh, well. Didn't everyone say laughter was the best medicine?

"Seriously, what's up with Snape?" Xander asked to drag Draco back on topic.

"Professor Severus Snape is one of the Wizarding World's most accomplished Potions Masters. He teaches Potions here at Hogwarts, is the Head of the Slytherin House, and he's my godfather," Draco informed his American friend.

Xander frowned slightly. What was with the unfamiliar words? The American wondered if this place was so different or if he'd just tuned out one too many lectures about magic during Scooby meetings. Well, it couldn't hurt to ask. Xander picked a term and jumped on it. "What's a Slytherin House?"

Draco frowned. "Your school didn't have houses?"

"Nope. My town had houses. I even lived in one. But my school only had classes."

Well that was different, Draco thought. The more he learned about this strange American, the more he realized that the man was unlike anyone he'd ever met. The man had obviously grown up in completely different circumstances than Draco's, and signs pointed toward the Californian being slightly eccentric. At times the man's logic was more convoluted than the ride to a Goblin vault. From what Draco had been able to piece together from the last couple of days, Xander had the survival instincts of a –_shudder- _Gryffindor.

There were certain requirements needed to become a friend of the Malfoy family. Xander had none of them. He didn't have a proper upbringing. He had no ambition as far as Draco could tell, or fortune. He made stupid jokes, told outlandish stories, and coddled sniveling children that should be scolded. Draco should despise the man. Xander was _nice_ and _caring_: two characteristics that usually set Draco's teeth on edge.

Maybe it was because unlike most of the supposedly kind-hearted, caring individuals he'd met, none of them had actually been nice to _him_. But Xander was. He'd helped Draco without knowing him. He'd extended his hand in friendship and asked for nothing in return. Not even reciprocation. Draco knew how rare that type of offer was, and appreciated it, even if he wasn't quite sure he believed in it.

And Draco found himself not bothered that Xander was different. He didn't mind that it was becoming more and more obvious that Xander's upbringing, while no doubt interesting, was not the upbringing of a pureblood wizard, or any wizard for that matter. But Xander's ignorance of wizarding customs Draco had grown up taking for granted didn't grate on his nerves like it normally did when he encountered muggleborn wizards. He was still trying to figure out why. Truth be told, it was kind of fun explaining the Wizarding World to someone with no preconceived notions. The resulting comments were unpredictable.

Draco smirked. Let's see how Xander reacted to Hogwart's Houses. "Hogwarts students are sorted into one of four Houses: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Slytherin."

"How do they sort you?" Xander interrupted. "Draw you name out of a hat?"

"A hat is involved, but they put it on your head and it shouts out which house is the best fit for you. Each house is for students with a certain trait. Students are sorted into Ravenclaw because of their intellect. Hufflepuffs are loyal and hard-working. Gryffindors are brave, and students in Slytherin are sorted there because they are cunning and ambitious."

Draco paused in his explanation to study his friend. Xander looked confused. "It's not exactly Advanced Arithromancy, Xander. Do I need to use smaller words?"

Xander snorted. "No, Your Highness. It's just . . . how can a hat separate by those traits? Wouldn't you have to be intelligent to be cunning? And most of the brave people I know are loyal too. At least my friends are."

Personally Draco wondered about that given the fact that the one friend of Xander's he'd met had attacked him twice in two days. But in a rare instance of tact, Draco didn't bring up that subject. "Sometimes the house the hat picks seems strange," Draco admitted to the man. "Hermione Granger is smarter than two Ravenclaws but she's a Gryff. The Weasley twins are very cunning and ambitious, but their entire family has always been sorted into Gryffindor." Draco sighed. "And over half of my house won't be truly cunning until someone invents a permanent intelligence boosting potion.

Draco stopped talking abruptly. Merlin, what had he just said? Draco pinned Xander with a fairly intimidating glare, especially considering the fact that the boy probably couldn't make it to the other side of the room without getting winded at the moment. "You repeat anything I've said and I'll make your life a living hell, you realize?"

Xander grinned. "Your secret is safe with me. That's how friends work."

Draco wasn't sure why, but he believed the American.

Xander's expression grew a little more serious. "If you think so badly of your housemates, then why don't you hang out with another house?" Xander really wanted to ask the boy why he seemed to be universally hated, but he couldn't ask anything that tactless. As far as the Californian could tell, Draco's most offensive trait was a biting wit. True, some people were offended easily, but if Giles' level of snark was any indication, then it was hardly a capital offense in England.

"Slytherins have to stand together," Draco answered. "Everyone else is against us. The Slytherin House is full of evil, dark wizards-in-training. We're all backstabbing cowards just waiting to become Death Eaters."

Okay. Xander was definitely missing something here. "You have a house of evil wizards? When do you start at this school?"

"At eleven. Why?

"You get sorted into your House then?"

"Yes," Draco answered. "We get sorted our first evening here, just after we arrive." Where was Xander going with this?

"And if a hat assigns you to Slytherin you're considered evil and no one likes you."

Draco scowled. "Pretty much." No, Draco wasn't bitter; not at all.

"Why has no one burnt this hat?" Xander asked exasperated. He sighed. "No offense, Draco, but this sorting stuff is kind of stupid. I'm just a little bit smarter than the kid at our school that still ate paste at sixteen, but do the kids here seriously think no one smart, brave, or loyal can be evil? How do they think the big bads get evil minions? And of course only cowardly idiots would try to take over the world or attack innocent people."

Draco smirked. This is why he didn't mind explaining the Wizarding World to the American muggle. Xander picked apart wizarding tradition with ruthless efficiency. But Xander didn't automatically think that he knew better just because he came from a world with advanced technology. Contrary to popular belief, Draco didn't hate every muggleborn wizard that stepped foot on Hogwarts soil. He just despised know-it-alls.

"Xander, you've just made me feel better about hating ninety-nine percent of my peers."

The man gave the boy a mock tip of the hat. "Glad I could be of service.

* * *

_Next chapter: Mr. Malfoy finally decides to grace us with his presence._


End file.
